


La petite mort

by Ziane



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Begging, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Canon-Typical Violence, Edging, Falling In Love, Fluff, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Incest, Lust at First Sight, M/M, McShimadacest, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Porn with Feelings, Power Play, Prostate Massage, Rope Bondage, Shameless Smut, Shibari, Shimadacest, Smut, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, Yakuza Genji Shimada, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-06-16 05:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 100,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15430341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: McCree realized at an early age that he wasn't good at keeping himself out of trouble, so when he met Hanzo Shimada he instantly knew he'd go to him like a moth to the flame. The commander of Blackwatch, Gabriel Reyes, has established an operating base in Hanamura, and McCree worked undercover to find out anything he could about the Shimada-gumi. But Genji Shimada outsmarted him, blowing up his cover and handing him over to his brother.After their first encounter, McCree cannot stop obsessing about Hanzo.





	1. Love lick

**Author's Note:**

> There is a prologue to this fic that I wrote for the McHanji week: [Amuse-gueule](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15327492) I encourage you to go there and read it before this one as it will set the tone of the story and I make several references here about what happened there (also, McCree tied up to a chair *cough cough*).
> 
> Fair warnings:  
> \- This story features Hanzo and Genji Shimada in an incestuous relationship. If you don't like that, please don't read!!  
> \- This will be mostly McHanzo ٩(♡ε♡ )۶  
> \- This will end up being Porn with Feelings.  
> \- English is not my mother tongue so there will be mistakes (っ- ‸ – ς)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "Love lick" is a rough caress in cowboy slang.

The rumbling noise of the elevator does little to ease his mind, and Jesse glances up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply more to get a hint of bravery than air, and letting it out slowly. His heart races against his better judgment because he shouldn’t be excited to see Hanzo Shimada again -much less in his territory- but damn well he is. It’s been a week since their last _encounter_. He cannot even name it properly, much less understand what happened that night. The memory startles him often, every day. When McCree trusts he has forgotten about it, it comes back to him like a surge, drying up his throat and pulling him down to the ground as though he could feel Hanzo’s hand still on him. He gets a boner every time, cursing at how he begged for it, at how much he wanted what he never thought he’d want. That little game messed him up at a new level and one thing he knows: he is starving for more.

He has spilled his lust more times than he’s proud of, thinking about that chair, that room, the two pair of eyes on him and that skillful hand controlling his pleasure, dragging it out of him, stealing it. Hanzo’s a thief, smug and paid of himself, and yet he’d beg for it all over again. Perhaps that’s what scares him the most, that given the choice, he’d do it again. After a week jerking off of the same fantasy, McCree thought he’d get over it, but his damned imagination betrays him and the scenario turns into Hanzo not wearing his gloves, Hanzo intruding his mouth with his tongue instead of his fingers, Hanzo on his knees sucking his cock; not that Genji isn’t a god damn dream on that side, but he wonders, he wishes, his curiosity out of control…

McCree sighs, believing himself more in control, but when the elevator chimes and he reaches his floor, a shudder runs through his spine and he curses inwardly, stepping outside and walking the long hall to Hanzo’s office. McCree hasn’t told Gabriel Reyes about the details of his meeting with the Shimadas. Where would he start? Genji Shimada blew me and then his brother jerked me off while I begged for it, also, I am pretty sure they fuck each other. Surely Gabe will have a laugh at him and then freak out. No, he left all those details to himself.

This seems like a normal office, people patrolling up and down the hall with papers, busy people wearing suits, phones ringing in the background, but this is the Shimada building and behind the renowned name lays the most powerful yakuza family in Hanamura. McCree wonders if Genji will be here today too. Last week they texted, but he hasn’t seen him either. The brat took care of him that night. After a hot -and lonely- shower, he provided clothes for him and made him company until he fell asleep. It was weird, but he enjoys his company, so different from Hanzo, more accessible and friendly though he is sure he is an excellent liar. And yet there is something that attracts him to Hanzo even though he barely knows him.

They talked about what happened, about how Genji tricked him, about how they knew he worked for Blackwatch since the beginning and how Hanzo didn’t want to miss the opportunity of an alliance. The Shimada-gumi has enemies to worry about, and so does Blackwatch; Talon is growing worldwide and the squabble with the yakuza isn’t new. But about the other thing, Genji only promised to finish what he started one day and McCree laughed, he also asked him if he had enjoyed his brother’s doing, and red beet, the cowboy confessed it had been one of the best orgasms or his life, unexpected, weird; he also suggested that they could have asked for a date instead of tying him up and scare the shit out him at which Genji laughed and replied: “That is not Hanzo’s style.”

The secretary greets him and disappears into the office to announce his arrival. In less than a few seconds, he opens the door and invites him in. McCree swallows, smooths his jacket, picks at the hems, and dries his hands on his thighs before he comes into the sumptuous office. The first thing that catches his eye is the wide window where you can see the whole city. McCree whistles, but then the cracking of a leather chair makes him turn around.

And there he is, Hanzo Shimada comfortably reclined behind his desk. It is too big to be that empty, in a deep ebony black wood, perfectly centered in the middle of the room. He is wearing a black suit with a black shirt and tie, and his hair back in a low ponytail. McCree wonders why is he suddenly more enraptured by his presence than by a whole city at his feet.

“Good morning, agent McCree,” Hanzo says politely, albeit his smirk does not go unnoticed. He stands, and the first thing McCree glimpses is that he isn’t wearing the leather gloves from the other night. It sends a rush right into his brain. Hanzo prowls to the Chesterfield sofa near the windows and invites him with a gesture of his hand.  “Have a seat.” He obeys, clearing his throat and unbuttoning his jacket, the noise of the leather and the smell is so Hanzo it unsettles his mind. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Water,” he says and then he realizes he has been quiet until now and curses the teenage kid that has possessed him as soon as he crossed the doorstep.

Hanzo turns to his desk and orders his secretary to bring water before he sits on the other side of the couch. Far enough that isn’t overwhelming, far enough he doesn’t notice his ragged breath and thumping heart. Still too close he fogs his mind. He should’ve listened to Gabe, he should have let someone else handle this but Hanzo said it himself, he wanted _him_ to be his contact with Blackwatch.

“I believe you have something for me,” Hanzo says.

“And you have something for me too,” McCree says, the corner of his lip twitching upward as he leans forward and digs his elbows on his knees, feigning his cockiness. The secretary comes back with a clear pitcher full of water and two glasses in a tray, carefully placing it on the coffee table near the couch and leaving with a bow.

“No calls,” Hanzo says when he is by the door. “And make sure no one interrupts us.”

“Yes, Shimada-sama.”

“Where were we?” Hanzo says as soon as they’re alone, crossing his legs and leaning back on the sofa.

“I told my boss what you wanted,” McCree says, distracted for a moment by the hand over Hanzo’s thigh until he meets his eyes again. “He agrees that Talon is a menace here for both of us, but he ain’t keen about an alliance with…”

“With a criminal,” Hanzo finishes. “It does not concern me, as long as we get things done. I will feed him intel about Talon but Blackwatch will not meddle in my operations.”

“For now,” McCree says with a smirk that Hanzo returns.

“Have you _told_ your boss?” Hanzo asks distractedly, his foot tapping the air while he picks invisible dust from his knee. McCree freezes, knowing exactly what Hanzo means, the thing he’s been fearing is happening right in front of him. That was quick.

“No,” McCree says and then a smug smile grows wide on Hanzo’s lips. “That ain’t his business.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Hanzo asks, his bare hand running up and down his own thigh in slow motion and curling up McCree’s stomach.

“A bit too much.” He isn’t sure where this is going. He wants to run away from that office and, at the same time, he never wants to leave.

“Come closer.” Hanzo’s raspy voice suggests, too invitingly to stop him from scooting closer on the couch, the noise of the leather as noticeable as his battered breath. “Closer,” he whispers when it isn’t enough and McCree goes like a moth to the light until his knee brushes Hanzo’s leg and he can feel his arm behind him on the back of the couch. “Do you want another taste?”

McCree has to bite his tongue to not moan and embarrass himself. “What is this really about?”

“This is my game,” Hanzo says, speaking in a low voice, so close to him but pushing no further. “If you want to play.”

“What are the rules?”

“Smart boy,” Hanzo smile widens, and he leans forward. McCree swallows a lump in his thirsty throat, bedazzled by those eyes and the melodic tone of his voice. “If you let me, I will push you until you cannot take it anymore, until you beg me to make you come, until I will _allow_ you to come,” Hanzo whispers, remarking the words one by one so they sink into his brain.

“My pleasure is yours?” Jesse says and chuckles, quoting Hanzo’s words from their last time together. But the truth is something is stirring him up and sending a rush of adrenaline through him.

“As long as you want it to be,” Hanzo says, ghosting his fingers over McCree’s thigh.

“And that’s it? Just sex?” McCree says, unable to take his eyes off of Hanzo’s hand, distracting him and suggestively brushing the fabric of his trousers. “You get to say when I come?”

“Yes, what else would you want?” Hanzo says.

“To fuck you?” McCree bluntly says, lifting his eyes to drown into two black voids and feeling the red come up his cheeks. Hanzo chuckles amused. “You fuck me, then?” McCree jests.

“Are you interested?” Hanzo asks.

“I’m in for the ride,” McCree says and, as soon as the words leave his mouth, Hanzo’s hand, the one that felt like a gust over his thigh, is shamelessly fondling his leg and traveling up, squeezing, a jolt of pleasure going right into his groin. McCree didn’t need much to get hard these past days, but this is just absurd. Hanzo makes him spread his legs so his hand fits right at the hip joint, thumb and fingers squeezing and teasing.

“Unfasten your trousers,” Hanzo says. Not a suggestion, not a plead, but a simple command and McCree hurries to pry open his fly with trembling hands not knowing where to put them and choosing to press them on the couch at both sides his legs. “There is one thing,” Hanzo whispers, leaning closer, his knuckles running up and down his jutting erection right over his boxers. “I may want to tie you up. Would you be up to that?”

“We’ve already been there,” McCree says, a flick of tongue wetting his lips while he tries to stay still and not pursue the feeble movement of Hanzo’s wrist.

“Answer,” Hanzo says, fingers intruding his underwear and tugging at it until his hard cock stands firmly against his stomach, leaving a glistening trail on his shirt.

“Yes,” McCree says and swallows but Hanzo’s smirk is reassuring and unsettling at the same time. “Someone could come in.” A justified fear crosses his mind, the door is right in front of the couch. If someone enters the first thing they’d see is McCree sprawled on the couch with his cock out.

“No one will bother us,” Hanzo whispers. He is so close his nose brushes his cheek for a moment, but when that bare hand wraps around his girth McCree moans and forgets about his own name.

“Damn,” he curses while Hanzo strokes him at a leisurely pace.

“How many times have you touched yourself thinking about the other night?” Hanzo whispers right into his ear and McCree turns about to glance at him. That mischievous smile reveals the things Hanzo already knows, and he has hidden poorly. How much McCree wants this; how much he looked forward to this meeting only to be in the same room with him again. He didn’t even dare to fantasize this meeting would go further than that but there he is again melting into his unmerciful hand.

“I lost count,” McCree confesses and turns a new shade of red.

“That is good,” Hanzo praises. “But now you cannot touch yourself unless I tell you to, understand?”

“I come when you say so,” McCree gasps, his breathing peaking by the doing of that steady hand working him beautifully.

“ _If_ I say so,” Hanzo teases. His hand twists, fists the head to soak the palm in the surprising amount of pre-cum that oozes from it, going back to jerk him off a little faster, firmer, so much McCree cannot keep his hips still and tries to irremediably buck up into his hand. “This is much more than _just sex_ , McCree,” Hanzo says and his name is like a long lost melody in his ears. “You are leaving in my hands the extent of your sexual pleasure and I intend to sate your thirst to the brink and back.”

“And yours?”

“This gives me pleasure,” Hanzo whispers into his ear and runs a thumb up and down his shaft, just like the other night, caressing an engorged vein with endless gentleness. “To see you come undone like this. That you trust me enough to bend in my hands.” Hanzo pumps his cock faster, squeezing the hardness in his hand and stealing a loud moan McCree uselessly tries to muffle. But near his peak, Hanzo slows down and frustration grows in him, fearing where this is going. “Do not dare to come,” Hanzo whispers, his hand tightening at the hilt while his lips brush the lobe of his ear before a soft bite.

“Something tells me,” McCree says and gasps for air. “That I ain’t gonna like the next part.”

“You will see that denial is as good as an orgasm,” Hanzo says, circling his thumb over that pre-cum slicked tip.

“Oh shit,” McCree says, writhing at the sensation. He glares at Hanzo, his whole stance, his hot heavenly hand -softer than he thought- the spark in his deep black eyes and the smile of contentment. Everything is so tantalizing he cannot refuse, his whole body is begging for this even though his mind is telling him to come, to slap that hand, take himself in and he’d come in less than a second. But Hanzo’s offer is tempting, new, exciting, he wants to spill in his hand and not his own. McCree swallows, his eyes flicking to those stretched lips and then down at the obvious arousal trapped in Hanzo’s trousers. “You’re hard,” McCree gasps.

“Does that excite you?” Hanzo whispers, resuming a slow slide on McCree’s cock.

“Ya’ bet,” McCree says as a half-smile shows on his lips. “I wanna do something about it.”

“Oh please, do tell me,” Hanzo says, and for the first time, there is a hint of a different lust in his voice, of something that is out of his control and McCree believes he has the upper hand somehow.

“I wanna suck you, darlin’,” McCree says in a honeyed voice that turns to mush his lovers. “’Til you come hot in my mouth.” He steals a groan from Hanzo and an unfair squeeze on his cock that elicits a low moan and, without noticing, he hides his face on the crook of his neck. Hanzo smells of wood and sandal, heady and sweet, a hint of tobacco laying underneath. McCree nuzzles there, his nose caressing the soft skin where he is perfectly shaved, though his goatee brushes a side of his face. He wants to stay there to live, and Hanzo praises the gesture with a long stroke on his cock.

“Good boy,” Hanzo whispers. “But earn it first.”

McCree chuckles from desperation, frustrated at that hand wrapping him and stealing his control over his own pleasure. Perhaps letting a man he barely knows, a yakuza, an assassin to have his way with him isn’t the best idea, but damn if he isn’t tantalizing altogether if it doesn’t twist his brains and clench his stomach.

“Wait until tomorrow night,” Hanzo says and McCree grunts, masking a sob at the prospect of over twenty-four hours holding back. How is he going to do it? Hard and desperate as he is this seems like a death sentence. Hanzo puts a dead stop to his hand and McCree moans when he releases him and his throbbing cock brushes against his shirt. “Do not touch yourself and do not come until we meet again tomorrow,” Hanzo commands. “Can you do that for me?”

“Damn,” McCree curses, weighs his options and instantly realizes he'll have nothing less than what Hanzo wishes to give him. He will do it. “Yes… yes, darlin’.”

“You can call me to tell me how unbearable it is,” Hanzo teases, his hand again stroking his thigh while his aching cock stands up in the air. “How hard you are thinking about it, how much you want my hand around you… my mouth around you…”

“You’re so mean,” McCree murmurs and Hanzo chuckles amusingly.

“Fasten your trousers,” he says and pats his thigh.

“That ain’t fitting back in,” McCree jests, arching a questioning eyebrow at Hanzo and glancing down at his own problem. Giving up, he fits his hard cock inside his boxers. Every brush of his hand sends a needy tremble through his body, and the fabric restraining his erection to a side isn’t helping either. Experience tells him this will eventually go away only to come back when his mind betrays him with thoughts of Hanzo.

“Make it work,” Hanzo says while McCree groans and zips back his trousers, the obvious bulge huddled to a side, just like Hanzo’s because he is still hard but his face reveals no discomfort. When he finishes, Hanzo traces the outline of his jaw with a finger and tilts his head until he meets his gaze and the corners of his mouth twitch upward. “Tomorrow night.”

“It’s gonna be a nightmare, ya’ know?” McCree jokes.

“I will make it worth your while,” Hanzo promises.

McCree has a dry mouth and raspy throat but the water in front of him won’t help him sate his thirst, and apparently, neither would Hanzo Shimada, at least this morning. He stands as though they had nothing more than an innocent business exchange or a conversation when McCree is shaken from the inside out and fears not to be able to complete Hanzo’s command. What if he cannot? What if he fails? And more importantly, what if he makes it through the next twenty-four hours and Hanzo is right and he blows his mind? They exchange phones and the idea of texting or calling him curls up his stomach in sheer fear for some reason. McCree gives Hanzo a device with Gabriel’s instructions as they agreed and, with a tip on an invisible hat, he leaves the office with a swell in his trousers, a thumping heart and the prospect of a dangerously increasing sexual frustration. But there is more, a thrill rushing through his veins like a drug, hazy and gratifying as much as exasperating. McCree would have never refused. How could he? If a hand job blew his mind what else has Hanzo Shimada for him?

This will be quite the ride.

Hanzo sighs as soon as McCree leaves and he is left alone in his office. He sits on his leather chair, the noise familiar and comforting. An intent throbbing bothers him though, and Hanzo greedily squeezes his cock over his trousers, feeling how hard he is, how eager and impatient. Nothing has thrilled him like this in a while, but those gentle whiskey-colored eyes seem to be his utter weakness.

Closing his eyes, he reclines back, lifting his hand to scent McCree’s essence on it. It is so lewd that his cock twitches in interest. An unashamed moan leaves his mouth, and he palms himself again, tugging and firmly gripping what he can over the clothes. The temptation is nearly unavoidable, and he allows himself a few strokes but stops before he soaks his own trousers in pre-cum or worse. Hanzo breathes heavily, wondering how it would feel to have McCree’s mouth around him as promised, if he is ready for that yet; if they both are.

“Fuck,” Hanzo mumbles.

Genji was right, so right when he briefed him in about McCree, not only his implication with Blackwatch, his double agent mission, no, he read him perfectly when he talked to him about his eagerness, his lust, how he kisses. Envious at his little brother Hanzo huffs, wanting to kiss, to taste, to let McCree suck him dry until… the communicator chimes and it distracts him, perhaps for the best. Hanzo clears his throat before his secretary announces Genji has arrived and the door opens wide.

“Good morning, anija,” Genji says with a mischievous smile and that’s when Hanzo knows he has seen McCree leaving the building.

“Spit it out,” Hanzo says and rolls his eyes.

Genji prowls his way to his desk, circling the huge surface to sneak in front of him and lean back, folding his arms over his chest and sporting a smug smile. “What did you do to him? He seemed… flustered.” He can barely suppress the giggle.

“We merely arranged a meeting for tomorrow night,” Hanzo says unable to hide the half-smile.

“Can I come to play with you?” Genji says and bites his bottom lip. Hanzo scoots closer, bracketing Genji to the desk with his hands and glancing up at his face.

“Not yet,” Hanzo says and revels in the pout of his little brother. “Let me tame him and test his resistance.”

“Go easy on him,” Genji chuckles. “He is a sweet thing.”

“You know me,” Hanzo says, his hands caressing Genji’s thighs over his jeans. “Just a little tie and tease.”

“I bet he left with a hard-on,” Genji guesses and Hanzo nods. “I bet you are hard, anija. Can I help you with that?”

“Insatiable…” Hanzo chides, doubting for a moment if he should yield to his brother’s lust and enjoy briefly the earthly pleasures before he drowns himself in work. But he remembers McCree’s blushing cheeks and eyes sparkling with longing and it fuels his determination.

“You’re going to wait for him,” Genji says, feigning surprise and pretending he is stabbed in the heart. Hanzo nods with a smug smile. “You like him,” he whispers and narrows his eyes.

Hanzo ignores him, rolling the chair closer and nuzzling at his groin. “But you do not have to wait, and I should reward you for the excellent hunt regarding the cowboy…”

“Anija…” Genji moans, his hands already unbuttoning his jeans. You don’t reject Hanzo when he is feeling generous -and horny- and in a good mood.

“What can I say if you are a living temptation, Genji,” Hanzo teases, his hands swooping down the jeans and underwear until they fall unceremoniously around Genji’s ankles. His brother is already hard enough to take into his mouth but he wraps a hand around him first and strokes him firmly.

“I want a bite too,” Genji gasps, both hands gripping the desk to steady himself. “I haven’t fucked him yet, and he’s so big, anija, I want him, please.”

Hanzo peppers loving kisses along the hip joint and up without slowing his hand. “You will have your fun, I promise,” Hanzo says between chuckles. “Looks like you like him a tad too much too.”

“Shut up and suck me,” Genji moans and earns a spank on a side of his butt cheek that immediately turns a bright pink under Hanzo’s hand.

“Behave or I will leave you hard and begging instead,” Hanzo threatens as a sly smile stretches his lips, sending a frisson down Genji’s body because his brother can perfectly punish him like that.

“Please?” Genji says, pursing his lips.

“Keep it quiet or I will stop,” Hanzo says before he traps the tip of Genji’s cock between his lips.

“Anija…” Genji moans, hurrying to bite the back of his hand to muffle his needy noises. Hanzo is starving, bursting eagerness at how he is eating him up. Usually, Hanzo takes his time, teases to the infinite and beyond but here and now he has shoved his whole length deep into his wet mouth in one long slide and he is sucking and humming a needy melody into his cock.

That’s the cowboy’s doing, Genji wants to laugh and tease him about it but he knows better than that. Instead, he takes a handful of Hanzo’s hair, messing up his ponytail and petting lovingly as he gives him head. He’s so used to his command that this is a gift, to come and enjoy freely that twirling tongue on the underside of his cock, hands leaving crescent moon marks on his ass and the puffing of a warm breath huffing through Hanzo’s nostrils right into the base of his cock.

Genji bites hard his hand to muffle his whines, to last a little longer in this unexpected heaven because finding Hanzo horny in his office is a gift, especially if he takes advantage of it. He thrusts forward with his hips but quickly chastises himself for it, but Hanzo pushes him onward, inviting, and he runs his hand down his head to the back of his neck to hold himself and thrust into his mouth, his other hand gripping the desk with white-knuckle force. His cock brushes back and forth his tongue while Hanzo wraps his lips tightly around his girth, sucking intently, stealing his resolve and dragging his climax out of him in a whimsy need.

A desperate gasp and a low grunt leave his lungs when he fucks Hanzo’s mouth frantically even as he spills himself into his throat and mouth. Genji smiles, satisfied at the flushed face of his brother taking willingly all he has for him, careful as always to not spill a drop, with the love and unconditional will to please him as much as he wants to fulfill his commands as the most obedient lover. This is who they are, and Genji wouldn’t love him any other way.

Hanzo gives as much as he takes and it melts his heart every time. “I love you, anija,” Genji whispers, squirming under his hands because Hanzo sucks long after his orgasm is over. The last spurt of cum gets lost in the depths of his throat, his cock softening in his mouth by the second, but the older Shimada is relentless and until Genji lets out a feeble wail and trembles he doesn’t take him out with a slow drag of lips, his cock clean of spit or come. And he licks lasciviously his lips after he finishes, glancing up at him with the mischievous smile he always has when he inflicts pleasure on his lovers; when he realizes his doing turns someone’s brains into a puddle. Genji sighs, mouth open, panting, his cheeks a deep shade of red.

“I love you more,” Hanzo whispers. “Thank you for this.” He helps him with his clothes, crouching to pull Genji’s underwear and jeans up again.

“You’re going to get burned by a hot, filthy cowboy,” Genji teases and earns a mean bite on a side before Hanzo throws his arms around him and brings him to his lap on the chair.

“Do not make me regret it,” Hanzo says, kissing the back of his neck.

“You’re still so hard,” Genji moans and rubs his ass on his lap between giggles.

“I definitely spoil you too much,” Hanzo says and rolls his eyes before they take a few minutes to enjoy the peace and quiet, the other’s touch, Genji’s lightweight over him like a blessing, the cuddles distracting him from the aching need of release. But Hanzo is determined to wait for the cowboy to spice the game a notch up.

Tomorrow night.


	2. Tie and Tease

The luxurious Mercedes smells new and the seats are smooth and comfortable even though he feels lonely and as an intruder in Hanzo’s car, but he insisted on sending it to bring him to his place again. McCree remembers as though it was yesterday the night he already spent there, even if nothing happened and he just spent the night hopelessly yearning it did, even with the memory of that concrete floor and grey basement where they first met so recent in his mind. But nothing happened, he left the morning after with nothing but a kiss from the brat and his hands into his empty pockets. The anger he feels at how naïve and easy he’d been fades away when the hankering of seeing Hanzo becomes stronger, deeper, to the point all he can think of is him.

The corners of his mouth twitch upward as he gazes out the window, the lights of the city flashing before him. He is already half-hard with anticipation, and for the past twenty-four hours, he has revived in his mind what happened with Hanzo in his office. It has taken the best of him to keep his hand off of his -apparently almost permanently hard- cock and his mind focused on tonight.

Yesterday went by relatively easy. After he left Hanzo’s office, he went for a coffee and then to Blackwatch’s headquarters. It was easy to pretend everything was fine among his fellow agents and, besides the sudden betrayals of his brain that sent a jolt of pleasure down his groin to remind him of Hanzo and his smooth hand, he made it through the day with barely a scowl or two from Gabe. But as soon as he got home -late at night and tired from work- his cock decided it was a good idea to get rock hard and remind him of Hanzo once more. McCree ignored it, made a quick dinner and ate it lurking through social media.

The car arrives, and he gets out in front of the residential building more nervous than he expected, not knowing if this would work out or if the apparent chemistry between them is just an illusion. He touches the brim of his hat as a greeting when the doorman lets him in. For a moment there, McCree wishes this was just a date, so he knew what to expect and how to behave but it isn’t. Just sex, or more than sex, but definitely not a date.

Last night he woke up from a nightmare bathed in a cold sweat and the meanest boner of his life. It took the better of him to stop himself from rubbing one off half asleep as he was. McCree endured it, suddenly finding stupid and pointless to deny the obvious needs of his body exclusively because Hanzo _asked_ him to. Or worse, to please him. Frustrated and lacking sleep he thought about sending a message to Hanzo, but after five minutes of staring at the screen, he put it back on the nightstand.

The elevator chimes and he steps out, a tingling running through his body as he walks and knocks on the door. McCree swallows but before he has time to dwell on the petty decisions he always takes in his life, Hanzo opens the door. The blunt expression of his face twitches into a contented half-smile when McCree tips his hat.

“Good night, cowboy,” Hanzo says with a funny tune in his words which suggests he approves his attire or at least that it amuses him. McCree grins at the thought, forgetting for a moment why he is there. Not a date, he repeats to himself.

“Howdy,” he says and winks, not missing Hanzo’s roll of eyes as he swags into his apartment.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” Hanzo asks, guiding them both to the living room and inviting McCree to take a seat.

“Whiskey, neat,” he says, taking off his hat and leaving it on the coffee table in front of him.

Everything here looks simple and with a function, no excessive decorations or furniture, just like Hanzo. Beautiful in his complexity but without bauble. McCree gives Hanzo a once-over while he busies himself with the drinks cabinet. Unsurprisingly, he wears striped trousers, a matching vest, and a black shirt underneath. He wonders if he just came back from work, but something tells him he hasn’t when Hanzo offers the whiskey and sits next to him, a wheeze suggesting he has showered, his usual scent stronger and not tainted by the day, though McCree thinks that’s a shame.

“You have not called or texted me,” Hanzo says, twirling the golden liquid inside the glass until he rests it over his knee.

“I thought about it,” McCree says, sipping at his drink. And damn if that isn’t a good, expensive whiskey at how it slides down his throat leaving a sweet, toasty flavor. Hanzo smiles when he hums and sips again.

“Next time do it,” Hanzo says. McCree’s heart skips a beat. Next time means more times, more suffering, more frustration building up, and more of him.

“To tell ya’ I woke up hard and wanting nothing more than to relieve myself?” McCree chuckles.

“Yes,” Hanzo says with a sly smile, meeting his gaze and McCree blushes slightly. “Are you still -Hanzo pauses, recalling his words- _in for the ride_?”

“I’m right here,” McCree says with a raspy voice, drinking to infuse a little courage. “Ya’ can do whatever you want to me.” The words come out so easily it scares him, and he leans forward, flirting. That has always been his strong suit, and he considers himself good at it. Hanzo smells even better closer, and he wished his hair was loose as the strand framing one side of his face, making him want to tug it behind his ear.

“Anything?” Hanzo says while a smug smile grows wide. “Can I put my fingers in you?”

“Yes,” McCree has to bite his tongue to prevent a moan leaving his lips.

“And my mouth?” Hanzo whispers, leaning forward, the closeness so overwhelming and tantalizing McCree is dizzy, and it has nothing to do with the whiskey.

“Yes,” he whispers back, his eyes betraying him and glancing at those smirking lips he hasn’t tasted yet. He wants them so badly it hurts and clenches his stomach. His erection is growing demandingly inside his jeans and Hanzo hasn’t even touched him yet.

Hanzo gasps, caressing the glass on top of his knee. “I want to do so many things to you,” he murmurs, hooded lids hiding those black voids, words poured right into his mouth, breath tainted by the bittersweet drink.

“Honey,” McCree gasps, acknowledging there is nothing Hanzo Shimada could do to him that he wouldn’t want. “After a day hard, you could fuck me raw and I’d beg for it.” Hanzo moans, his chest heaves twice as he uselessly tries to control his breathing. His sexual frustration becomes nothing when completion is so at his reach, or so McCree believes.

A faint blush covers Hanzo’s cheeks before a sly smile creeps up his face. “Follow me,” he says. No kiss. The disappointment hits him like a brick and McCree finishes his drink in one gulp. The whiskey turns out to be a poor substitute of Hanzo’s tongue that’s for sure.

McCree walks behind him through the hall, anticipation curling up his stomach when they don’t get in the room he stayed the first night but instead, they follow to the room at the farthest side of the apartment. Hanzo’s bedroom. A big bed with simple white bedding presides the center of the room, two nightstands, the most perfect dim light illuminating the chamber giving you a level of intimacy without depriving you of any details. McCree swallows.

“The bathroom is on your right,” Hanzo says. “You can take your clothes off.”

“All of them?”

“Are you shy?” Hanzo teases him, walking closer. “You can keep them on for a while if you want.”

“No,” McCree chuckles, his hands failing to unbutton his checkered shirt on his neck. Hanzo smiles, glancing up at him. Standing in front of the other, McCree realizes he is a good six inches taller than him, and when Hanzo reaches for his hands he nods, letting the air out slowly as he unbuttons one by one his shirt until it drapes open over his chest. McCree watches how he rolls the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows methodically and then he takes his own shirt off, distracting Hanzo briefly. An impressive dragon greets him, a glimpse of a tattoo that gets lost inside the shirt and that he suddenly wants to inspect further in. The Shimada ogles at his bare chest covered in a thin fuzz, his eyes unabashedly staring at his scars: the one near his chest, the one that almost kills him on a side, scratches from lost grapeshots. Then his eyes flick and narrow at the tattoo on his left forearm and Hanzo reaches for it with his hand, ghosting his fingers over it, tracing the winged skull.

“The past chases us relentlessly,” Hanzo whispers.

“Especially when we wear it on our skin,” McCree wryly says and Hanzo meets his sad eyes, erasing the sentiment and turning it into lust when he runs a thumb over his lips at the same time a flick of tongue wets his own. He wants to kiss him and McCree knows it. It is taking all his willpower not to lean forward and steal with wanton what he hankers for.

“Be right back,” Hanzo says, leaving him to the task as he disappears into the bathroom.

A stream of water resounds in the background while he unfastens his jeans and sits on the bed to take off his shoes and socks. The floor of the room is warm, the temperature so accurate it cannot be a coincidence. McCree slides his thumbs inside his black boxers when Hanzo comes back.

“Leave them on,” Hanzo says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “I will enjoy taking them off by myself later.” Eyes full of lust gaze over his body, his jutting erection obviously stretching his underwear, cock jerking in interest when Hanzo’s eyes pore over him. “Lie on your back.”

Hanzo reaches for his trusty pair of black leather gloves from the nightstand, wearing them as he studies McCree while he lies on the bed, head on the pillow and a naughty smile on his lips.

“Why the gloves?” McCree arches a questioning eyebrow.

“You seemed to like them the last time,” Hanzo says, taking his shoes off and sitting on the bed next to him. Satisfaction invades him when his eyes roam shamelessly over his exposed body, mouth watery and throat dry in an impossible dichotomy. “Arms above your head.”

“Yes, sir,” McCree teases with a half-smile, scooting down on the bed and bending his arms up comfortably until they rest at both sides of his head.

“Grab the headboard bars behind you,” Hanzo says, reveling in the sweet blush on McCree’s cheeks. “Can you stay still or do I have to tie you up?”

McCree obeys dutifully, reaching blindly for the cold iron bars, strange and odd in his fingers as he tests how well secured it is to the wall behind. A hint of disappointment flashes through him. “Ain’t ya’ going to tie me up?”

“Not tonight,” Hanzo says, taking a bottle of lube from the drawer and dropping it at the other side of the bed. McCree follows it with his eyes and swallows.

“You tied me up the other night,” McCree says. “I’m fine with it.”

“Look at you,” Hanzo says, climbing up the bed and hovering over his body as he straddles him. “So eager to please…” McCree tightens the grip on the headboard, tensing the muscles on his arms. “There is nothing I want more than to cover you in rope, McCree.” A moan escapes his lungs and makes Hanzo’s smile widen. “Imagine your hands tied up above your head to this same bed, your chest restricted by a soft, red rope, tightening in all the right places…” McCree groans, clinging to the only thing keeping him still: the grip above his head. “… or imagine your hands secured at your back and your ankles to your thighs while I make use of you.”

“Everything you say sounds like a good plan, darlin’,” McCree mumbles, the images in his mind playing tricks with his soul and heart.

“But not tonight…” Hanzo whispers, leaning forward to pour the words right into his mouth. “It is too soon.” His heat his unbearable, his clothes an impassable barrier he wished gone. It has him hard and ready for anything. McCree is panting, his body begging for a touch that seems so far away, and it gets worse when Hanzo sits back on his lower stomach, his knees holding the majority of his weight only enough that he can feel him and not precisely where he would want him.

“Damn,” McCree says and unconsciously tries to buck his hips up to get some friction on the throbbing erection that has been pursuing him for a day and a half. Hanzo clicks his tongue to chastise him.

“Do not move,” Hanzo says. “I want to see what a good boy you are following my commands without any restrains.” He runs a finger in a curvy road down his chest without any particular direction. “Prove yourself worthy of my ropes.” A sly smile drives him mad, wanting to release the iron bars now warm in his hands, tackle Hanzo on the bed and wrestle him, but McCree groans into the room and forces his body to relax underneath him. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” McCree gasps, his hands relaxing the grip for now. It isn’t uncomfortable, his arms rest on the pillow and the fact that he can support himself gripping forcefully to channel his frustration helps him through.

Hanzo leans forward, fingers drumming without any rhythm over his shoulder. “I want to inflict endless pleasure to you, McCree.” His name on his lips turns him into a puddle once more, and the pulsing down his groin becomes unendurable at the lack of stimulation. And this is only the beginning. “This may easily turn into pain or frustration.” Hanzo cups his face and the smell of the leather sends a rush of adrenaline at the memories of that first night. “If it is too overwhelming, you tell me to stop, no matter how far in we are or what I am doing. If you cannot take it we stop.”

“Don’t be so concern about me,” McCree says, a shy smile stretching his lips while he tries to avoid the piercing gaze of Hanzo who tilts his head to prevent it. “Alright, sweetheart, as you wish.”

“Let’s see if you are so strong-willed at the verge of your climax,” Hanzo teases.

McCree chuckles but Hanzo steals his smile ghosting his lips over his mouth, an inch away from those surely velvety lips that he dies to kiss. A desperate gasp echoes in the room when Hanzo crawls down, hovering over his body, a hand on the bed near his waist and the other stroking his left arm with smooth leather. Hanzo drags his lips over his collarbone from one side to the other, his hand, covered by the glove, travels up his arm again, his shoulder, and caresses so slightly his left nipple. McCree tightens his grip on the bars and curses when Hanzo hums his approval and circles a perked nip with his thumb, eliciting a needy moan.

This differs from anything he has done before, there is an intimacy about letting someone take control over your body that is getting to him in so many ways. He wants to close his eyes to focus on the sensations but he also doesn’t want to miss the sight that is Hanzo Shimada on top of him. A naughty tongue flicks over his skin and McCree flinches at the same time he lets out a whine without noticing. Hanzo is traveling down on him unhurriedly and McCree is already bursting with impatience.

Hanzo ghosts his lips over a nipple and McCree gets ahold of himself at the bars with white-knuckle force. A warm mouth traps the tip, a languid tongue rubs against it while leather fingers pinch the other gently enough not to be painful but McCree squirms under the pressure all the same.

“Can I bite you?” Hanzo whispers, his raspy voice a telltale of his excitement.

“Bite me, darlin’,” McCree says, words tainted with lust pouring out of a parted mouth.

Hanzo takes a mouthful of his flesh and clenches his teeth around it, softly at first, accompanied by a low moan reverberating into his skin. McCree moans, Hanzo’s tongue flicking inside his mouth right on the tip of his nipple while the other suffers trapped between two unmerciful fingertips. He leaves a glistening trail of saliva and moves to the other, leaving indents behind and wet cold flesh in the air. The second bite is harsher and McCree squirms and moans when Hanzo latches on the other nipple all teeth and tongue, sucking forcefully, gritting his teeth gently right on the tip before he sucks again. Onyx eyes glance up at him as he sucks and bites the skin of his chest and McCree battles between the pleasure, the sudden pain and the predatory man on top, making of him a sore mess with so little.

“I want to,” Hanzo gasps for air, doubt flashing for a moment in the back of his eyes. “I want to mark you.” McCree moans, arching his back and exposing openly his chest and throat to him. He wants to beg for anything Hanzo asks of him. A road of bites, some sting more than others, is leaving pink and red bruises up his chest to his throat, then a gentle kiss on the crook of his neck steals a moan and Hanzo does it again. McCree realizes he is holding to those iron bars as if his life depended on it, but it is the only thing preventing him to move.

“Bite me,” he whispers. “Please.” Hanzo grunts before a mean love bite assaults his neck forcefully, owning, tightening the grip by the second until it seems unbearable and then a tad more before he releases momentarily. McCree’s cock jerks at the sensation, at the possessive lewdness of it and at how Hanzo breathes hot and drips spit in that elongated love bite that he hopes -oh so very hopes- leaves a proud bruise as proof this has happened. McCree wails loudly and Hanzo squeezes a bit further in before releasing him and lapping at the indents of his teeth and the purplish skin around them. His hands fondle McCree’s chest to distract him from the pain, to mix it with the pleasure of his fingers running up and down his perked nipples, the leather smooth but foreign.

“So good to me,” Hanzo whispers, face hidden in the crook of his neck still.

McCree opens his mouth to speak but Hanzo squeezes his chest in his hands at the same time he feasts once more on his neck, a tad closer to his neck, sucking at his skin and kissing a wet path down again. Their gazes meet briefly as Hanzo slowly crawls lower on his body, hands touching, mouth biting and kissing and McCree curses he is so close to his cock but so far away from his lips. A moan escapes from him when Hanzo nuzzles below his navel. He should’ve taken his boxers off too, that’s what McCree thinks when the Shimada opens his mouth and tests with his teeth how hard he is over the cotton fabric.

That little stimulation is driving him mad, his cock reacting to the touch and throbbing impatiently. His breathing is slow and suffused with a lust that is eating him alive. When Hanzo mouths at the head of his cock over the boxers McCree moans loudly without a trace of shame, and it takes the better of him to stop the jerking of his hips looking for the warmth of that mouth.

The unashamed noises amuse Hanzo and he does it again, tasting the salty soaked fabric and pressing a flat tongue over it. “Oh please,” McCree whines.

“I could make you come like this,” Hanzo whispers, the words hot against his aching cock.

McCree hides his face to a side, closing his eyes until he senses a wet tongue tracing the outline of his erection from hilt to tip and he forces himself to look down, beet red as he is to enjoy the spectacle. Hanzo slides his fingers under the waistband and glances up at him with a devilish grin that freezes his brain and clenches his stomach in the most pleasurable way. McCree nods impatiently, wanting to shout at him to do anything he wants, that he will take it all and more.

Hanzo swoops down the boxers and McCree moans when his length stands firmly against his stomach. He feels more the oozing tip of his cock smearing pre-cum on his skin than the boxers sliding down his legs and feet. When Hanzo climbs back on the bed, he settles himself between his legs and McCree spreads them, exposed, defenseless, so ready for everything Hanzo offers.

“You are gorgeous, McCree,” Hanzo says in awe, admiring his nakedness in all its glory just for him.

“I ain’t the pretty thing here,” McCree teases, blushing and trembling by anticipation. If Hanzo touches him, he’ll come right now and there, so embarrassingly soon. And he doesn’t want this to be over. Hanzo chuckles and McCree doesn’t miss the gesture where he adjusts the fabric over his own trousers, an uncomfortable erection growing hard and thick that makes his throat ache and his mouth thirst.

With a deep sigh, Hanzo leans forward, bending McCree’s leg on the knee, his hands stroking the back of his thighs while his mouth runs fast down the side and bites him harshly near the hip joint. His leg jerks and taps Hanzo’s back, and the Shimada smirks at him satisfied. “You are so close…” Hanzo teases. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” McCree says, the word coming out as a strangled beg. He doesn’t know how long will it take, probably not much, but he needs it. “Please.”

“What do you want?” Hanzo murmurs, dragging his lips on the underside of his thigh while the other hand tickles his other leg.

“You…” McCree stutters, his hands hurt by the grip on the bars, but what else can he do? He wishes he was tied up by a rope more than his will because this is an even harder task. “Your hands, anything, just… please.”

Hanzo cups the most intimate parts in his palm, nestles them there, and relishes in the loud moan poured into the room. “So ready…” he groans.

“Your hands,” McCree mumbles, eyes pleading. He wants him, the leather is too foreign and strange for what he really needs. Hanzo understands as a sly smile grows wide on his lips and he takes the gloves off one hand at a time, pulling at the fingertips with his teeth. They glide beautifully over his skin until warm and slightly clammy hands fondle McCree’s thighs again and he mumbles a blue streak of nonsense.

Hanzo scoots closer, spreading his legs and leaning to a side to take the bottle of lube from the bed. When the stopper clicks McCree’s eyes and mouth open wide, his chest heaves and he bends his knees and sprawls his legs, exposing himself, wanting, pleading, his whole body already surrendering to Hanzo Shimada without a hint of embarrassment. His need for him is too much, need for gratification, for the final push where he comes finally and gets rid of the lingering frustration building up this last day. McCree cannot wait any longer, but there is something in Hanzo’s smile while he warms up the lube in his hand that sets a lump in his throat.

“You need me so badly,” Hanzo says. “Look at you.” He bites his bottom lip as his eyes flick down to his cock, his tight balls and the puckered hole begging for a fuck. Hanzo has to gather all his self-control to stop his mind to go there, to where he fucks him to hell and back and McCree comes hard between and around him. He breathes out slowly. Not his style.

“Please,” McCree mumbles.

Hanzo wraps his bare hand around him. Cock so firm and hard he moans at the touch. McCree jerks involuntarily when he gets what he has wanted since yesterday since forever. Hanzo gives a long stroke and a spurt of pre-cum oozes out of McCree and gets mixed with the lube in his hand. Hanzo loses it and leans forward, tilting the cock to his mouth while he lets his tongue out to taste and savor the droplets coming out the slit with hunger, eliciting a needy whine from McCree that goes right into his groin.

A melody of hums fill the room but Hanzo straightens, composing himself and cradling his balls in his left hand, drumming fingers over them while a deft hand strokes him at a slow killing pace. Hanzo is building up his pleasure so smartly it is unbelievable, he doesn’t have the self-restraint to do this, he never makes a fuss about rubbing one off at night. McCree pleases his lovers, holds himself until they cry out satisfied and bliss paints their faces but never like this, never pushing so far the edge the desperation invades him, his sexual release a pleasure so out of his reach and in the hands of another. It is good, it is so good…

“Do not come, McCree,” Hanzo’s raspy voice commands.

McCree whines, puffing his ragged breath out in the room while that hand works him a tad faster, just enough he worries at his lip, distracting himself from the urge to come, to let go, this is out of his reach, he is going to fail him, both, end this too soon, maybe it is for the best. Hanzo tightens the grip on his balls, his hand tugging, pulling, stroking and twisting beautifully. McCree arches his back, gasps desperately into the room and yields to it, but then everything stops, there are no hands on him but a strong grip at the hilt, thumb and middle finger punishing his pleasure and stopping the wave that goes away without him.

“I told you, cowboy,” Hanzo whispers. “Your pleasure is mine.”

All the ratchet up of pleasure is still there deep inside his loins, his load heavy on his balls and McCree whines as a strangled sob leaves his mouth. There is a slight discomfort in his body that washes away when warm caring hands stroke the back of his thighs and Hanzo lets his legs rest on his thighs, relaxing him, soothing his discomfort with loving hands.

“You are doing great,” Hanzo says and McCree opens his eyes to get the full extent of the praise when he looks at him proudly and contented. “How many times do you think I can do this?”

McCree chuckles nervously, letting go some adrenaline. “Oh God, I don’t know if this is hell or heaven.” The discomfort subsides and Hanzo’s deft hand strokes again his leaking cock.

“Are we good?” Hanzo asks.

“Yes, darlin’,” McCree says and nods to ensure his answer. Hanzo smirks as he takes the lube again and squeezes a few droplets into his hand. His left strokes him firmly but too slowly to make him come just yet while the right sneaks between his butt cheeks, teasing between them. McCree’s moan of surprise pleases him and Hanzo prods at his hole, watching how McCree’s legs spread and his biceps curl when he tightens the grip on the bars.

Hanzo slides in the tip of his finger, a half-smile showing up on his face. “You are tight, McCree,” He arches an eyebrow at him, pushing in and pulling out to stretch him.

“It’s been… a while,” McCree stutters, turning a new shade of red.

A little moan comes out of McCree when Hanzo sinks his finger in to the second knuckle and fists the head of his cock at the same time, his thumb running up and down his slit gently. He leaves his hand still wrapping his girth while he fucks him unhurriedly with a finger, circling the ring muscle, the heat sending a jolt of pleasure right into this hard cock. Sometimes Hanzo wonders why he leaves his clothes on, why is he so scared of intimacy when this is the most intimate thing you can do to someone, control their pleasure, allow them to feel or not, turn the pleasure into an unbearable need they cannot fulfill on their own.

It has been years though, since the last time he had a lover other than Genji because nothing seemed to be enough, it was mechanical and foreign, they came back to his bed for the rush but not for him, and they left him there afterward with the same urge that brought them in the first place. He grew tired of it, he always had Genji, for love, for sex, unconditional loyalty between them. Hanzo chastises himself for having high hopes for the cowboy, for seeking his company and pouring into this more than he should.

Hanzo squeezes in the tip of another finger, twisting his wrist, palm facing the ceiling. McCree’s eyebrows knit at the burn, the stretching that he longs for but hadn’t experienced in way too long, so long he cannot even remember because doing it to himself isn’t the same, because he has so many things in his head that pushed this to a side, the pleasure, the sex, how liberating it is to let go and forget about his own name. Because if there’s a name in his mind right now is Hanzo Shimada, those fingers easing the burn and pushing into his warmth with practice ease, that hand still but squeezing his throbbing cock. McCree can feel the pleasure building up dangerously, the pent-up anticipation making it easy, like sliding down a slide, or falling from a cliff, it’s a good thing Hanzo is in control because he’d drown himself in a heartbeat before reaching this level.

McCree moans and clenches around his fingers when Hanzo strokes a sensitive spot, his eyes open wide, and he hears the headboard yielding to the strength at which he is pulling at it. “Right there,” Hanzo says and bites his lower lip, burying his fingers on him and curling them upwards to do it again. McCree shudders, his cock shoots a clear spurt of pre-cum on his navel and twitches in interest in Hanzo’s hand.

“Oh, please, Hanzo,” McCree cries out.

“Hold for me once more,” Hanzo commands and McCree mumbles a loud yes when his fingers put pressure on his prostate and his left hand moves up and down, pumping his hard cock at the same rhythm than before, one that is frenetically increasing his pleasure and tightening his balls. His body is so ready to unleash his pleasure he has no willpower to hide it anymore, moaning his arousal into the room, hips jerking into that slicked hand tugging at his cock.

It is so overwhelming, cock sensitive and aching for release, those fingers treacherously moving and pressing up to make him squirm desperately into them pursuing more. McCree melts into his hands, a trail of glistening saliva running down a side of his mouth, his arms tense and hurting by the effort of staying still, his eyes unavoidably closed and missing the show, overwhelmed by the sensations.

Hanzo pants, coordination taking the better of him, reading the signs for the first time, getting to know when he is at his peak to torture him again. It breaks his heart at the same time the rush of power invades every fiber of his body, exciting him like nothing else. McCree arches his back, hips frantically bucking up into his hand, cock pulsing in need. Hanzo puts a dead stop to everything and the low wail from McCree breaks his heart. His ragged breath echoes in the room, legs trembling and relaxing again, defeated, cock twitching firm against his stomach and fingers still far up his ass.

“Son of a bitch,” McCree mutters and bites his own arm to muffle a needy whine, channeling his frustration upon himself. If he thought the past hours where a nightmare this is worse, far worse when he is so close, so ready, so willingly taking it all so Hanzo stops right at the brink of his climax so unmercifully it breaks his heart.

But Hanzo leaves him empty to crawl up, hovering over him and peppering kisses along his cheek and jaw, so lovingly McCree sobs and gasps. “You are a dream, McCree,” Hanzo whispers. His heady scent is all over him, distracting him from his pain, from the frustration and bringing him down to here, to this moment. McCree turns about and their lips brush together briefly. He parts his mouth shyly, gasping and dragging his mouth over Hanzo’s, eyes wide open staring into each other. Hanzo freezes.

“M’sorry,” McCree mumbles right into his mouth, heart thumping in his chest. He is clinging to the headboard harder than in the whole night.

Hanzo falls into his lips as the force of nature he is, intruding his mouth with a taut tongue and eliciting a moan from McCree. He kisses back as though it was the last kiss of his life, heady and dizzy, Hanzo’s scent all over him, his weight, his warm mouth and skilled tongue exploring his mouth freely, entitled to do it, taking, owning, and he accepts it all gleefully.

Then Hanzo’s hand is on his cock and McCree struggles to breathe, surpassed by the intent share of tongues, by his well-trimmed goatee scratching his chin and mixing with his own unkempt beard. It is too much and as much as he’d want to keep devouring and feasting on that mouth offered unexpectedly to him McCree’s mouth opens wide, Hanzo’s tongue outlining his lips. His hand squeezes him, jerks him off mercilessly fast and then, suddenly, lungs full of air, body tense and aching from the effort, so close… so…

Hanzo stops, grips tightly the hilt of his cock and presses their foreheads together as McCree cries out his need to come, to climax, to reach to completion this sweet, sweet, torture because he is dying for more, scared of coming too soon and poorly when he has all this smoldering pleasure building inside him. He has no control of his body anymore and he tugs at the iron bars in frustration, angrily, the lingering taste of Hanzo still in his mouth.

“Breathe, McCree,” Hanzo says, and he obeys. McCree forgot how to breathe, slowly coming back to the present, to the bed, here and now, glancing with puppy eyes to the creature on top of him. Hanzo smiles at him as though he has done the most wonderful thing in the world by not surrendering to his lust. “You are so perfect,” Hanzo praises and kisses him again. There is no better reward than this, but he sobs into the kiss. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” McCree says and gasps. “Make me come, please, Hanzo…”

Hanzo gives a peck on his pleading lips with a mischievous smile and crawls down again, straddling his thigh and supporting McCree’s leg to a side on top of his own. He manhandles him freely, limbs slack but tense, barely trembling and radiating heat. Hanzo caresses his leg, holds lovingly his thigh while he has perfect access to him. Lube and sweat smear his clothes but it doesn’t matter, not when like this he can grind against McCree’s other thigh even though he is trying so hard not to do it. This isn’t about him.

McCree groans at the swell in Hanzo’s groin, at how that impossibly hard bulge brushes his leg and he is flooded with wanton. “You have been so good tonight,” Hanzo whispers, his hands caressing everywhere but his cock. “Holding back for me. You have lasted more than I thought.”

Hanzo nestles his balls in one hand, plays with them, while his fingers dig holes into his thigh and his hips rock relentlessly over his other leg. It is too much, but he needs more, the pleasure and desire building quickly again, like a sudden waft. McCree lets out a hearty moan when Hanzo wraps his hand around him once more, his warmth enveloping him and sending a jolt of pleasure than translates in a whole body shudder.

Hanzo circles a thumb over the tip of his cock, reveling in the grimaces of pleasure retorting on McCree’s face and the jerking on his leg whenever he strokes the sensitive slit or leads his thumb a little lower, pulling back his skin. “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” McCree moans, unable to control the jerking of his hips. Hanzo takes him in hand, long firm strokes steal the most beautiful noises as he increases his pace, determined to build his orgasm one last time, but this time to let him have it, to witness how it breaks him through and out. “Tell me… when…”

Hanzo melts at those words, even like this McCree yields to him, pliant and at his mercy like the most obedient lover he’s ever had, even Genji proves to be a challenge sometimes when his head is on his neglected pleasure and not his way there. “Sweet cowboy,” Hanzo whispers, jerking him off with a loose fit, gently because he is oversensitive, carefully not enhance the discomfort so he can reach his peak easily, so he can spill himself once and for all. “Come for me…” McCree whines and moans into the room, head slumping back into the pillow, arms tensing beautifully as he holds and tugs at the iron bars of the headboard, surely exhausted after such a long time. The cowboy barely feels his fingers at how harshly he is clinging onto them.

It doesn’t take long until he is pouring a blue streak of nonsense out of his mouth, a few firms and reassuring strokes on his cock sends him over the edge. McCree shudders as he climaxes, body trembling, jerking and writhing underneath Hanzo. But the Shimada milks him through it, watches with a groan of pleasure how he paints his chest in white stripes of come, how the hard cock in his hand twitches violently at the imminent release and how McCree holds his breath the whole way through until he takes a sharp intake of hair that sounds strangled and needy. He strokes him until he is soft and half-hard and, even then, he holds him warm into his hand, pearlescent droplets falling down his knuckles while Hanzo pants and unconsciously ruts against McCree.

He comes back to his senses slowly, body slack and numb, hands still gripping loosely the bars, so obedient it melts Hanzo’s heart. The cowboy lying spent and sore is the most enrapturing thing he has ever seen and for a moment, he longs for more. “Goddamnit, Hanzo,” McCree groans and Hanzo chuckles, out of his reverie when he reads the blissed-out expression on his face.

“Lower your arms,” Hanzo says and McCree releases the headboard but leaves his arms near his head, defeated.

“Let me help you with that,” McCree says, pointing with his eyes the obvious swell on his trousers and Hanzo rolls his eyes, as though he was in any condition to handle him right now.

“I am good, this was about you not me,” Hanzo says, gently leaving a softened cock to drape on a side of his leg with a clear trail of come on the tip. It makes his mouth water.

“Please, let me,” McCree gasps. “Fuck me. I want to see you.”

His pleading stirs something inside Hanzo, a need, a craving so hard to overcome he just grunts and hurries to pry open his fly, smearing lube and come on his trousers. “So willing to please, so willing to be fucked,” he says as he takes his cock out. “Is that what you want?”

McCree gasps, even as exhausted as he is he licks his lips at the sight of that beautiful round cock, tip swollen and purple. “Yes,” McCree says. He’d beg for him, for his cock, even now. If it were at his reach, he’d suck on it until he chokes on a hot gush. But Hanzo has other plans, he takes his own spent from his stomach, coating his hand on it and taking himself in hand again. McCree moans at the sight, he’s never seen something so lewd an intimate, Hanzo’s cock soaked in his cum.

Hanzo leans forward, hovering over him, hand stroking firmly his length. He trails a path of kisses and bites from a trail of come near his sternum to his nipple and then his throat, clenching teeth around the same love bite to mark him again, to remind him of it. “Hanzo,” McCree gasps, his numb hand grasping his arm, touching a blue dragon that burns under his hand. Hanzo allows it, leans into his touch and lifts his head to look at him. He licks his lips lasciviously, surely savoring McCree on them.

“You want to know how much this excites me,” Hanzo whispers and McCree nods, unable to find words. “This is your doing, making a mess of me.”

“Mark me,” McCree says, knowing it will drive him mad, he may be new to this game but he can read a man’s needs and Hanzo needs this, wants this. With him.

Hanzo moans and McCree drinks it all up from his mouth as they kiss all teeth and tongue, desperate, needy, Hanzo’s hand moving fast and hectic, with no tempo except for the one his animalistic mind allows him to. There is a point where Hanzo fucks into his hand instead. A harsh bite on his bottom lip and a hot stream down his navel makes McCree’s cock twitch in interest again, tired as he is, weary and defeated. Hanzo comes long and hard, pouring a melodic stream of moans into his mouth that McCree wishes it sounded like his name.

“You are a menace,” Hanzo mumbles, ragged breath trying to recover the control over his mind and body as he straightens. He admires the beautiful mess he has made of the cowboy, chest covered in his own come and Hanzo’s, his hand and cock too. Hanzo jerks himself off until there is nothing left to spill. McCree is deeply blushing but not avoiding his eyes, taking it as a praise, at how much he has enjoyed not only his own pleasure but Hanzo’s too.

“All yours, darlin’,” McCree quips, voice low and tired.

“Do not move,” Hanzo says and stands quickly, his legs wobbly as he walks toward the bathroom to come back with a wet towel. “I would like to run you a bath but…”

“I ain’t leaving the bed,” McCree jokes.

“I figured,” Hanzo says and chuckles, cleaning him carefully and lovingly, even though it is a shame he cannot play a little longer with him. But for their first -well, second- night together this is more than enough to exhaust a man.

Hanzo stands and disappears into the bathroom again while McCree stares at the ceiling, too tired to move, too tired to be embarrassed even when Hanzo cleaned the lube from his ass. He feels good and sated, relaxed to the point it is taking a great effort to stay awake and he is losing track of time. The Shimada comes back only in his underwear and with another small bottle in hand. The tattoo he had a glimpse of is as bedazzling as his owner, reaching his shoulder and pec, it is as though Hanzo was born with it at how well it suits him.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Hanzo teases, needing no answer while he straddles him again, pouring some scented oil into his hands and warming it up rubbing them together.

“This was for real?” McCree says, eyes hidden behind hooded lids and a dopey smile on his face that speaks for him. Hanzo takes McCree’s right arm and massages from the shoulder and down his bicep and forearm. The bite on the neck will go away on its own, in a couple of days, which brings a smug smile to his lips. “That feels good,” McCree whispers. “Thank you…”

“You are welcome, cowboy,” Hanzo says, taking the other arm and feeling how the muscles relax and yield to his deft hands. This is his favorite part, even if McCree wasn’t tied up, luring him to sleep with a soothing massage, easing the knots of the tension of his arms and molding him under his hands is a reward even more intimate than the sex itself.

“I thought you were gonna let me suck you, darlin’,” McCree says and pouts, stealing a chuckle from Hanzo. He definitely looks less intimidating here, probably because it is his bedroom, his home, because of what they have just shared together. This feels right and McCree feels safe and sound around him. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea.

“You are in no condition to please me,” Hanzo teases.

“Next time,” McCree says and arches an eyebrow at him playfully.

“If you behave,” Hanzo says, unable to suppress the smirk on his lips. He stands and pats McCree’s side so he helps him rescue the sheets -that weren’t so badly stained- and cover him with them.

“Are ya’ leaving?” McCree protests half asleep half awake, face buried in the pillow.

“Sleep,” Hanzo says. “I will come back.”

McCree intends to stay awake until he comes back, he tries hard and long but his eyes close and he snuggles into the sheets, hints of Hanzo’s essence luring him to a slumber accompanied by the stream of the shower on the bathroom nearby. He falls asleep slowly, without noticing, and before Hanzo comes back, he is deeply gone.

He wakes up with the feeling he has forgotten something and opens his eyes to a strange room and a too damn comfortable bed to be his own. McCree turns around and finds Hanzo reclined on the headboard, a pillow and some cushions supporting his back while he concentrates in his reading, his face illuminated by the device in his hands and the nightstand lamp.

“Hey there,” McCree says shyly and Hanzo lifts his eyes from his data pad, the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the sweet and sleepy face of the cowboy. He grabs a glass of water and offers it to him. McCree didn’t know he was thirsty until then and gulps it down slowly but surely. “M’sorry, I fell asleep,” McCree says, giving him back the empty glass. “Do you want me to leave?”

Hanzo tilts his head to him. He has enjoyed the past hour near him on the bed, the cowboy dozing peacefully by his side. “I can arrange the car for you,” Hanzo says and sighs. “You can also sleep on the other room if…”

McCree scoots closer, sneaking under his arm until his head rests on his chest and an unabashed arm winds around his waist. Hanzo smiles, petting his hair as he resumes his reading with McCree’s body over his own, his breathing soothing and balmy, his warmth swathes him and everything is just so dreamlike that for a moment he forgets who they are and why they met. Hanzo sighs again, threading his fingers in that mussed brown hair, fighting the slumber to take pleasure in this for as long as it lasts.

This was such a bad idea, Hanzo curses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! My McHanzo smutty heart is so happy right now ♡✧( ु•⌄• )  
> There will be a proper tie and tease... remember Genji told Hanzo to go easy on the cowboy (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄
> 
> See ya' on the next one! <333


	3. Ride out on a rail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ride out on a rail" means to be forced to leave town.

McCree wakes up from a deep sleep in the same bed. It was the only witness of the simplicity of last night, still with their scents intertwined in the bedding. He needn’t open his eyes to know he is the solitary owner of the mattress. Rolling to a side, he buries his face in the pillow. Then everything comes back to him like a surge: his velvet-like lips, rough and soft at the same time, the kiss he finally stole, how he saw Hanzo losing control over him, yielding to his most lascivious needs. McCree groans and tries to print his smell in his brain to revel in it for the rest of the day.

A sweet longing for Hanzo invades him, wanting to invoke his presence on the bed. The memory of himself half-asleep snuggling against him, that caring hand petting his hair and luring him to a pleasant sleep. No, McCree didn’t want the car to take him home or to sleep in another bed, he wanted to huddle between those arms for as long as Hanzo allowed it. Everything that happened makes him blush in embarrassment, but McCree regrets nothing as he would do it again in a heartbeat.

Suddenly he blinks, straightening and reaching for his phone on the back pocket of his jeans that lay abandoned at the feet of the bed. He is so damn late that Gabe will kill him. A dopey smile paints his lips when he sees a message from Hanzo _._ _Feel free to stay_ _as long as you want. Behave yourself until we meet again_ . McCree lets out a hearty snort and then he curses under his breath the butterflies in his stomach. He decides his answer as he bites the tip of his tongue: _When will that be, sweetheart?_

With a low chuckle and a well-deserved stretch of his sore muscles, McCree stands, looking for the rest of his clothes. It would be better to stop at home first instead of showing up wearing yesterday’s outfit, he also needs a shower and, though Hanzo’s is tempting, it feels weird to be there without him. His hat is still abandoned on the coffee table of the living room and he hurries to grab it when a sleepy Genji comes out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee in hand.

“Howdy,” McCree says and touches the brim of his hat.

“Coffee?” Genji offers, pointing to the kitchen.

“I’m already late so…”

McCree follows him, surprised at the familiarity with which the Shimadas have opened the doors of their home. There must be nothing here that could remotely be of interest to Blackwatch or they wouldn’t be so naïve. Genji sports a knowing smile and McCree clears his throat and blushes slightly when he pours another mug of coffee. Black, two sugars, the brat still remembers, and they had coffee only once when he was uselessly trying to flirt with him.

“It has been a long -Genji elongates the word with a sway of his head- time since someone stayed overnight in his house.” McCree sips to prevent the naughty smile creeping up his lips. “But don’t tell Hanzo I told you that.” Genji arches an eyebrow.

“It was an accident. I fell asleep.” McCree shrugs.

“Right,” Genji says, wetting his lips. “Something tells me it will become a recurrent _accident_.”

McCree chokes on his coffee and Genji laughs openly. “Ya’ little shit.” But he isn’t wrong, he’d come back here tonight if Hanzo asked him to.

“We’re not that bad after all,” Genji teases, drifting forward to invade his personal space. “You’re getting the information you want, we get to continue with our business free of Blackwatch’s claws and…” McCree swallows, his proximity reminding him of how sweet Genji’s kisses are, of how that night he got caught was heading to a night between mussed sheets. The brat follows the ridges of his collarbone and a sly smile appears on his face when he spots the bite on his neck. “… and you are having fun on the side.”

“I ain’t gonna lie, darlin’,” McCree snorts. “This was an unexpected turn of events.”

“I’m curious,” Genji murmurs, leaning forward until he drags his lips over the purplish bruise and Hanzo’s marks of teeth. “Did he tie you up?”

“Jealous?” McCree teases and Genji bites him harshly until he wails and almost spills his coffee on the floor.

“An intent sentiment, but it doesn’t apply here.” A deep sigh leaves his lungs. “I know what he doesn’t let you do,” Genji whispers, easing the sting of his bite with feeble kisses. His hand traces a brave path down McCree’s stomach until the cowboy grips his wrists and a strangled moan leaves his mouth. Genji drums his fingers over his groin, ignoring the pleading hand trying to stop him.

“You’re a little minx, did ya’ know?” McCree grunts, cursing the blatant arousal awakening in his loins.

“Hanzo loves it, and so do you,” Genji quips, stealing a peck from his lips and leaning back on the kitchen counter with a devilish grin, relishing in McCree finishing the mug in one long gulp and readjusting his jeans.

“Time to leave the dragon’s den,” McCree says with a wolfish grin that widens when Genji rolls his eyes until he sees stars.

“See you soon, cowboy,” Genji says, a flick of tongue wetting his lips. “I haven’t forgotten I owe you one.”

“I bet Hanzo has the final word on that,” McCree teases and winks at him before leaving the kitchen. Genji’s chuckle reaches his ears as he walks toward the main door.

“He likes when you text!” Genji yells between giggles and nurses his coffee with a sly smile on his lips. It was a nice surprise to find Hanzo early in the morning leaving the house with a half-smile and contented instead of wry and bored with life, and when he told him McCree was still in his bed sleeping the innocent smile turned into something naughty. Hanzo took his jesting better than Genji expected but dismissed him with a kiss and a pat. But Genji knew him all too well and the liaison he intended to carry on with McCree meant more to him than he would ever admit.

At least not without a little push from his brotherly hand.

 

A boring morning brightens up when his phone chimes and McCree’s message pops up on the screen. Hanzo smirks, hurrying to finish the call he’s been immersed in for the past hour. But it is useless, his father bequeathed him legal and illegal businesses to juggle with, and both are a heavy burden over his shoulders, especially when Genji wouldn’t take his fair share of responsibility. A sigh noticed even through the line leaves his mouth. He would never force his little brother into a life he hasn’t chosen freely even if that means he’d be the one to pay twice the price. Genji proves himself useful in other matters, illegal matters, to his distaste.

Ten minutes later he hangs up the call and takes his personal phone in hand. A quick swipe casts a lovely smile to his lips, one that no one is there to see or catch because he reserves it for Genji and perhaps the cowboy as he’s been the one to steal it today. _When will that be, sweetheart?_ Hanzo reads it again before he quickly dismisses other messages and comes back to it. _That is for me to decide_ , Hanzo types and sends.

He should chastise himself for this, one thing was a little rough play with the cowboy when they met, another thing, seemingly innocent is what happened in this same office, but last night… that was something else, something that curls up his stomach tight and warm, something he craves and something he’ll miss as soon as McCree grows tired of the arrangement. What is it about him that has him thrilled like this? A double agent no less, trained to kill and spy, sent to his brother to meddle in their business and yet, an opportunity aroused and he took it. In more than one way. This cannot end well, not when Hanzo is still moved by a night of sleep with a warm body at his side that isn’t Genji’s. Not when this morning he stared for five minutes straight at the drooling cowboy next to him.

Hanzo is being careless and weaknesses have a high price in this kind of life. The comms ring and his secretary announces his appointment is waiting for him in the meeting room. Hanzo sighs, fingers intertwined together as he collects himself for what’s coming. Hanzo swallows thickly. Is that what McCree is? A liability? A pleasurable, delightful, bittersweet weakness he will dip once and a thousand more, apparently. He knows himself and his treacherous heart enough to read the signs. Too soon, too fast, too hard… so not like him. His younger self would have fallen for McCree in a heartbeat, first sight, Hanzo smiles when he admits to himself that truth, but at his thirty-five years old he should’ve known better. He made an error in judgment.

Leaving his office, Hanzo crosses the hall with the firm purpose of enjoying McCree’s company for as long as it lasts and not betraying himself again with tales of what cannot be. Unrequited love wounded him in the past and now only Genji fills his heart. There is no place for a cowboy riding into the sunset, is there? The question lingers in his mind as he opens the double doors of the meeting room and finds his guest with both hands intertwined at his back, glancing at the marvelous view atop the Shimada skyscraper bracketed by two bodyguards half his size.

“Good morning, Mr. Ogundimu,” Hanzo says and enters the room with a proud chin.

The hands at his back tighten slightly, a sumptuous, thick gold ring glitters in the sunlight as he turns around to face him. Broad shoulders, tacky white suit, and a beautiful skin as deep and dark as his soul. “Please, Hanzo, it’s Akande to you,” he says as a smug smile taints his words. Hanzo needs all his strength not to roll his eyes at the blatant friendliness which the leader of Talon pays him.

Hanzo isn’t interested in the least.

They shake hands though his big hand lingers over his longer than politeness requires and Hanzo’s eyes narrow in disbelief. Akande turns about the wide windows and the landscape with greed in his eyes as though he was admiring something that would be his soon. Hanzo stands by his side and receives the same sidelong glance that bristles all the fibers of his body and not in a good way. But Akande does not possess the power to unsettle him, and Hanzo’s confidence turns into a sly smile that he hopes the former member of Talon misunderstands.

“Hanamura is an enrapturing city,” Hanzo states, eyes on the wen he has seen grow and fall into the claws of crime.

“One day I’ll show you my country,” Akande says.

“I visited Numbani once. I did not find it to my liking,” Hanzo states distractedly.

“Perhaps you were in the wrong company.”

This time he rolls his eyes and hopes he hasn’t noticed. His insistence would have been a flattering remark in the past, he may have even fallen for it, for a while… but Hanzo has a rule of not mixing pleasure and work -Hanzo lets out a feeble snort- except for the cowboy. He’d break a thousand rules for those whiskey-colored eyes.

“Hanzo, you should consider joining us.” He is as blunt in business as flirting, but Hanzo doesn’t flinch or changes his stance. “I think we’d see eye to eye.”

“I would have little to gain from such an arrangement,” Hanzo mutters.

“On the contrary,” Akande turns around to face him and Hanzo glances to a side to find a row of predatory white teeth smirking at him. “Blackwatch is close on our heels, our alliance is natural. You are a businessman, Hanzo -the Shimada grits his teeth at the use of his first name, again- sure you can see the benefit.”

“What do you know about the organization?” Hanzo asks, diverting the subject to something more comfortable where he can get some information without compromising himself.

“I know they are spying on you.”

“So are you,” Hanzo turns about and arches a questioning eyebrow.

“Leave us alone,” Akande orders to his men who leave the room swiftly and close the door behind, freeing them from their presence. The authority tainting his words is one Hanzo knows by heart. He has recognized it in his father, the Elders, himself even… Sometimes it comes from men without power and means nothing, and other times, like today, it comes from a man who believes he is entitled to rule, to own by force and take what he needs to succeed. Akande takes a step closer and Hanzo glares at him. “You canceled our dinner last night.” His merciless onyx eyes scrutinize his face and Hanzo relaxes his gesture and twitches the corner of his mouth upward.

“I had another commitment,” Hanzo says, remembering his night with McCree.

“This is an urgent matter,” Akande says. “You are aware of the menace to your business, Blackwatch won’t stop until we both are wronged by their _just cause_.”

“They have thwarted several operations, nothing I cannot handle on my own,” Hanzo replies.

“Either we are friends or we are enemies, Hanzo,” Akande threatens with a silky voice. If he believes twisting Hanzo’s arm will achieve something he is very wrong, but yet the greater good is worth his time and his ego. Hanzo grants him a sly smile, narrowing his eyes and wetting his lips, noticing how Akande’s jaw tenses and his eyes flick to his lips.

Too easy.

“Perhaps we should reschedule,” Hanzo drawls.

“I take great pleasure in inviting my _friends_ to dinner,” Akande whispers and then a wolfish triumphant smile conquers his lips.

“I will arrange something and let you know,” Hanzo states, gaining some distance between them before the giant in front of him decides to take more than he can offer. “If you excuse me, I have an enterprise to take care of and my time is gold.”

“Of course,” Akande chuckles as they both walk to the double doors, reaching for the doorknob and sealing them both inside for a moment as he turns about to Hanzo, leaning dangerously close to whisper into his ear. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

A frisson runs through Hanzo’s spine when his warm breath caresses a side of his face, but he forces a smile on his lips, one that doesn’t reach his eyes but doubts the man has noticed. As they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Though right now, having the leader of Talon close and interested in him in more than a business-like way isn’t his cup of tea.

 

It has been an exhausting day and McCree drops unceremoniously his hat and jacket on the couch with a low grunt. He walks to the kitchen and stares at the content of his fridge for a couple of minutes before hunger abandons him. Maybe later. Taking off his clothes, he checks his phone only to confirm there is no text from either Genji or Hanzo before leaving it on the nightstand. Then he uses the little energy he has to turn on the water of the shower and steps into the hot stream.

He still hasn’t told Gabriel about his -McCree groans in frustration- _affair_ with Hanzo and he isn’t sure if he should or not. They’d pull him away from the operation and send him back to Switzerland in less than an hour, not to mention the scowl and the consequences of what he is doing. The commander won’t be happy, the strike commander may even fire him for it. It is such a delicate operation to take down the Shimada-gumi on its own, worse if they cannot foresee Talon’s implications yet and every attempt to find out what they’re up to is a dead end.

McCree steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, entering his bedroom and leaving a trail of damp footprints on the floor. He doesn’t want to leave Hanamura just yet, he cannot, not when he is so deep into what they’re doing, not when he cannot think of anything else than Hanzo, or his hands, or being tied up to his bed. It’s way too soon to part different ways, or way too damn late, he wryly thinks. McCree takes a pair of boxers from the drawer and wears them, surprised at the cockstand he gets as soon as he lets his mind wander around the Shimada.

A quick lonely dinner in the darkness of his kitchen serves him well but allows his thoughts of Hanzo invade his mind unavoidably. Less than a day and he already wants to see him, and the worst part is that they won’t be able to see each other for two more days. Tomorrow he leaves with Gabriel for a recon mission in the industrial district of Hanamura. The satellite intel plus Athena’s calculations reveal an unusual activity in the area worth looking into. If Talon has settled in the city, they must have an operations center that would eat a lot of resources and electricity from the area.

McCree pushes the dirty dishes on the dishwasher and walks toward his room, hoping to fall asleep without a boner tonight albeit he already knows the second his body touches the mattress and he closes his eyes images of Hanzo will lurk one after the other awakening his arousal and his half-hard cock. He sighs, staring at the ceiling while his eyes get used to the darkness. He buries his face in the pillow and a glimpse of Hanzo’s smell betrays him. It isn’t possible, he has imagined it and yet there it is. It goes right to his groin like a jolt and he gets hard even if his cock rests trapped between his body and the bed. McCree muffles his grunt of frustration into the pillow wondering if “behave until we meet again” includes not rubbing one off to be able to sleep.

When he turns his head to a side to breathe fresh air, his phone flashes white, and he hurries to pick it up from the nightstand as the teenage who invades him whenever he believes it could be Hanzo. He hopes he is. _Are you awake?_ A dopey smile grows wide on his lips and he leans on his forearms, phone on the pillow. Hanzo is online. _Yes_. An incoming call flashes and his heart races against himself. At his age, he thought this wouldn’t happen again, that he’d be experienced, in control, but a sudden fear invades him as soon as he answers and a hoarse howdy leaves his mouth.

“I can call another time if you are occupied,” Hanzo says.

“No,” McCree says, gasping for air. “I was bored to death in bed.”

“Trouble sleeping?” His voice suggests a playful timbre and his stomach clenches.

“It’s all your fault, darlin’,” he says in a low southern drawl and turns on his back. Hanzo’s voice is doing things to the butterflies in his stomach and the imminent erection tenting his underwear.

“What is it with you and the endearments?” Hanzo asks, lying flat on his back on the bed, head on the pillow and fingers already playing with the hem of his boxers. The low chuckle of McCree curls up his stomach nice and warm.

“My pops call each other pet names all the time,” McCree says. “They just come out of my mouth but I can stop if it bothers…”

“No,” Hanzo interrupts bluntly.

“Alright, sweetheart,” McCree teases. Hanzo curses the flaming blush of his cheeks and his brain stops working, not knowing how to continue the conversation. “I haven’t seen them in a long time.” McCree’s sigh through the line warms his heart.

“Where are you from?”

“Santa Fe, New Mexico.”

“I have never been there,” Hanzo says.

“Well if you ever want to, I’ll show you the southern hospitality,” McCree says between snickers, but then he remembers about Blackwatch and feels the urge to tell him. “Hey, I kind of will be gone for two days so we may not be able to see each other.”

“Oh,” Hanzo gasps. “How come? Something the matter?” The question tries to mask his disappointment, but he fails miserably.

“Recon mission. I’ll be incommunicado.” McCree suddenly fears he has gone too far even though Hanzo’s voice points out his disappointment, or so he wants to believe. “We don’t know yet, but Talon’s big bug may be around.”

“I see.” He is glad McCree cannot see the frown between his eyebrows. Blackwatch already knows Mr. Ogundimu is in Hanamura, and if they don’t, they’ll confirm their suspicions soon enough. Perhaps the cowboy’s absence comes in handy so he can meet with him meanwhile.

“I can’t tell ya’ more so don’t use your charms to get information from me, sweetheart,” McCree jokes at the sudden unbearable silence on the other side. Hanzo’s chuckle brightens up his face.

“We can meet when you come back,” Hanzo says in a flirty tone.

“If I had known beforehand…” McCree stops himself from going overly needy when he perfectly knows this thing between them isn’t about that.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” McCree worries at his lip.

“Do you already crave me?” Hanzo boldly states and McCree snorts.

“Yeah,” he says in a shy gasp. “I saw Genji in the morning.” McCree curses how stupidly he has changed the conversation to something harmless. Or not.

“He is a tease,” Hanzo says with a half-smile guessing his little brother messed with him.

“But I’m a good boy,” McCree drawls without thinking and swallows thickly, wishing he could see Hanzo’s face and shifting in the bed slightly. Even if this endless teasing ends up with him being hard and needy, he cannot help but tempt him.

“Are you?” Hanzo doesn’t wait for an answer. “What if you were here?”

“I’d beg you to tie me to your bed, otherwise…” McCree lets out a gasp, his hand traveling down and palming his hard cock over the underwear. He shouldn’t.

“Or what?”

“Or I’d be all over you, darlin’,” McCree drags the words tainted with lust and wanton, relishing in the sweet, heady noise of Hanzo’s breathing through his phone. “You haven’t let me yet, but I want to do so many things to you…”

“Promises, promises,” Hanzo whispers, contented to awaken this side of him. With practiced ease, he swoops down the boxers and kicks them off, trying to hold his ragged breath fearing being too obvious through the phone.

“It ain’t my fault you like to make me a sore mess before I can satisfy you, honey,” McCree teases, wishing what he has heard is Hanzo taking off his underwear.

“Tell me what you would do to me,” Hanzo asks, a flick of his tongue wetting desperately his lips, his mouth dry.

“No,” McCree bluntly says. “What I’ll do to you.” He can almost see Hanzo’s smile in his mind, his eyes going from lust to gentleness faster than a heartbeat. “I want to learn your body by heart, from that wicked ink in your arm to every mole of your back.” Hanzo gasps, the sound of his voice heady and bedazzling, sweet accent sweetening the words. “And I told ya’, I have a bite and I will leave my mark on you as you left your teeth on my neck.”

“Is still there?”

“Yes.” McCree caresses his neck with trembling fingers, barely feeling anything but knowing it is there purple and fading.

“I will not let it fade away,” Hanzo promises as though he was reading his mind.

“You can draw blood if it pleases you, darlin’,” McCree says with a raspy voice that fails to hide the burning lust coiling down on him. “But know I’ll bite back hard and long.” Hanzo groans and takes himself in hand with urgency only to squeeze the hardness between his legs and feel it pulsing for him.

“What else?”

“I’ll work you open for me,” McCree says, turning a new shade of red at how many times he has imagined himself on top of Hanzo, thrusting, sweaty, and desperate. “With my fingers and my tongue until you are ready for my cock.”

“Fuck,” Hanzo mumbles a curse and McCree’s smile grows into a wolfish grin. “How?”

“Ya’ want details, darlin’? ‘Cause I can get filthy,” McCree says, his hand grinding desperately, his boxers with a growing stain on a side, his erection jutting on the waistband as a silent protest at the poor stimulation. But if he starts, McCree won’t be able to stop at the right time as Hanzo does and…

“Touch yourself,” Hanzo commands. “And tell me what you’ll do to me. If it pleases me, I might let you do it.” He finishes the sentence smugly, feigning a confidence he lacks because he’d bend over for the cowboy any day now.

“Wait,” McCree says, cursing as he picks up the phone with his left hand, the device already hot and burning in his ear. “I’m back.” His boxers fall unceremoniously at the feet of the bed and McCree palms himself, feeling how hard and ready he is. A groan escapes his mouth.

“Right-handed?” Hanzo teases, smiling into the dim light of his room and imagining the cowboy in a similar position as he is now. McCree chuckles.

“Will ya’ let me come? ‘Cause darlin’, I ain’t that good as you at restraint.”

“I will think about it,” Hanzo teases. “Now tell me how you’ll fuck me.”

A hearty groan leaves McCree’s lungs as he collects himself to explain the fantasies lurking in his mind since they met. “I will bite those nice tits of yours, suck on them until you moan and beg me to give you more.” A grunt muffled by a bite encourages him. “Then I’ll take two slicked fingers down your ass, tease you and push until I fit two of them, just like you did to me last night.”

Hanzo puts two fingers into his mouth, suddenly needing the urge to be filled with something and using spit because reaching now for the bottle of lube single handed or interrupting the conversation isn’t an option. This will do. He makes sure McCree listens to his moan as he coats his fingers in his saliva and pulls them out with a noisy wet plop. “Are you…?” McCree gasps.

“Yes,” Hanzo whines, lifting a leg so his hand can find his ass in an awkward angle he will regret later. When he breaches himself with one finger, he moans at the burn, pushes into it, his body struggling to find comfort and pleasure and finding only one.

“Push them both in, sweetheart,” McCree whispers, his hand wrapping around his girth but, too scared to stroke himself, he settles for a subtle twist. “’Cause I’ll start fucking you with them soon, feeling how tight you are around them and sucking on your nipple, getting impatient by the second until I can fuck you hard.”

“Yes,” Hanzo moans, squeezing the tip of the second finger in, and relaxing around them while he pushes in and pulls them out in short little thrusts, opening himself as well as he knows.

“But darlin’, as soon as you’re soft down there I’ll turn you on your stomach.” Hanzo considers what a bad idea would be to hold the phone on the crook of his neck and lower his other hand to touch his cock because he needs it that much, but he focuses on filling the emptiness with eager fingers not nearly as slick as they should be.

“On my fours?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, with your ass presented to me as a Christmas gift. Then I'll spread you open with my hands and dip my tongue there.” A strangled moan reaches his ears and McCree tugs at his cock, a long stroke until he fists the tip and a spurt of clear cum drips down his knuckles. He does it again, his breathing peaking, his heart thumping. “I can’t wait to taste you, to put my tongue far up your ass.” Hanzo pushes his fingers in as much as he can, cursing the angle, his leg, the damn phone and that the cowboy isn’t in this damn bed with him right now. “I’ll make you come like this, fucking you with my tongue until I make you a sore mess hold by weakened knees.”

McCree tries a few faster strokes and reaches his peak so fast he has to slow down. Not until Hanzo tells him to come; he won’t be the one to ruin this little game for them even though frustration grows in him at equal levels than his pleasure. Denying himself has proven to be rewarded by Hanzo, though this is different, he doesn’t know if he will have the power to put a dead stop to this if Hanzo demands it. If he’ll just spill instantly at the moans and whines pouring right into his ear from the phone.

“Hanzo,” he whispers, begging thoughts in the form of his name. He wishes to be there watching Hanzo, a man who inspired him fear not long ago, fuck himself with two fingers at his request, imagining he is the one doing it. It clenches his stomach tight and hot.

“I approve your filthy mouth,” Hanzo says, his fingers fumbling desperately inside him, unable to reach his soft spot, his cock leaking a glistening trail down his stomach. “Don’t come yet.”

“Until you tell me to,” McCree groans, his brain telling him this is all for nothing, that he’d suffer the consequences of this with a sleepless night and a bag of ice on his cock. The thought sends a shiver down his spine at how willing to please he is, at how far he’ll go for him.

“When you come back,” Hanzo stutters. “The same night, come to my apartment.”

“Yes,” McCree swallows.

“Do not touch yourself while you are away,” Hanzo whispers. “I will hoard your pleasure to myself, tie you up for me, you will not leave my bed until I am done with you, but tonight…” McCree holds his breath, hoping for his mercy, eyes watery with need and lust dancing around them at the possibility of release with Hanzo’s blessing.

But he gets only silence. He waits. Nothing.

“Hanzo?” McCree asks.

“Wait,” Hanzo says too bluntly it stings in his heart. It is fortunate Hanzo has no shame and no secrets to Genji because his little brother has just come into his bedroom sporting a devilish grin and has caught him with two fingers up his ass, sprawled on the bed, and talking dirty to McCree.

“What’s wrong?” McCree asks and a deep sigh mixed with giggles gets through the line.

“Genji’s here.”

“Oh shit,” McCree says and tries to stop the laugh blurting out of him. “He caught you red-handed.”

The bed bounces when Genji climbs on it, settling himself between Hanzo’s spread legs and inspecting his pink stretched ass. Hanzo withdraws his fingers and Genji bites his lower lip, reaching quickly for the lube between more giggles. “Ill timing indeed,” Hanzo says and rolls his eyes at the unnerving mischievous smile of Genji, that leans close to the speaker so McCree can listen to him.

“Hello, Jesse,” Genji says, his hand traveling down Hanzo’s stomach and smartly wrapping around his girth. “He is so hard you wouldn’t believe it.” Genji mimics loudly Hanzo’s muffled moan. He hears a chuckle through the phone.

“Looks like my little brother came to spoil our fun,” Hanzo says, his voice cracking by Genji’s hand around him. He is in no condition to handle further teasing. “Or to spice it up.”

“Damn,” McCree chuckles but he is disappointed and kind of jealous of the little brat.

“But Jesse,” Genji speaks aloud, dragging his lips over his brother’s until he distracts him enough to steal the phone from his trembling hand. “I’m going to blow him, suck him hard and long until he comes into my mouth.”

“Genji!” Hanzo chides him.

“Suck him real good for me,” McCree says.

“I can already tell you he will be thinking of your mouth and not mine,” Genji says, pursing his lips and watching Hanzo’s flush come up his cheeks. It is sometimes unbelievable how unashamed his little brother can be.

“Genji!” Hanzo protests uselessly, weakened by Genji’s hand working him mercilessly. “Give me back the phone.” Genji complies with a wink and the first thing caressing his ears is McCree’s hearty laugh. Hanzo turns a new shade of red, opening his mouth to speak but getting interrupted.

“I’d choke on it any day,” McCree jests, believing he is speaking to Genji.

“Hello again,” Hanzo says, clearing his throat as a smile stretches his lips. “Excuse my impertinent little brother.” A loud moan escapes his lips when Genji laps and licks his throbbing cock shamelessly, glancing up at him and daring a complaint that will not come.

McCree clicks his tongue at that. “Now you’re making me a ‘lil jealous here, darlin’.”

“I have to admit he is far more skilled than he should,” Hanzo manages to say before he gasps again at Genji’s doing, especially when he flicks the stopper and pours lube over his fingers, his thigh, and the bed. Hanzo rolls his eyes at his carelessness.

“I’m jealous of him, sweetheart,” McCree’s flirty tone is back, and it melts Hanzo. “I wish it was my mouth on your cock.” The words mingling with Genji’s doing turn him into a sore mess.

“Are you still touching yourself?”

“I’m so hard for you,” McCree says. “Tell me what is he doing.”

“Genji is teasing,” Hanzo says with a sly smile, his free hand petting his black, short hair while Genji lavishes his cock from hilt to tip with a smooth, wet tongue.

McCree squeezes his cock, slow long strokes keeping his climax at bay. “Runs in the family,” he quips and Hanzo chuckles but his laugh dies in his throat the second Genji dips two fingers coated in lube in his ass. “That sounded so good, darlin’.”

“He is fingering me,” Hanzo gasps, legs spread wide, cock yielding under that sinful tongue’s attention. “Deep.” Genji buries his fingers to the second knuckle and curls them up, sending a shuddering wave of pleasure through Hanzo. McCree grunts at the needy moan, wishing he was Genji instead. The phone burns in his ear, his arm tired of holding it there, his whole body in tension and needing more, but McCree proudly defies his own needs, throbbing cock in hand.

“Darlin’, I want to hear you,” McCree whispers, daring to glide his sweaty hand up and down his length. His reward is a low moan and images of Hanzo open-mouthed and arching his back invading his mind.

“He has taken me in his mouth,” Hanzo gasps, glancing down and tugging at Genji’s hair, watching his cock disappear into the wet cave of his mouth, lips stretched by his girth, tongue brushing his underside and Genji fighting his hand to bob his head.

“Is he sucking meanwhile?”

“Yes,” Hanzo moans. “Just as he did to you the other night.” McCree is unable to suppress a hearty gasp at the memory of Genji’s mouth around him. “I’m close,” Hanzo whispers, hips rocking following the sinfulness of his lips and the intruding fingers.

“Hanzo,” McCree pleads. “Can I?” It melts his heart, the eagerness of his voice, the begging noise of a lump in his throat. Hanzo won’t deny him today, and yet the rush of power runs through him with just the same intensity, making his cock jerk inside his brother’s mouth.

“Yes, McCree,” Hanzo commands. “Come with me.” Moans and whines replace words, Hanzo’s eyes fixed on his brother’s doing while he listens to McCree’s sigh of relief, how he fills his lungs of air to let it out slowly in a blue streak of licentious nonsense.

It happens faster than Hanzo is used to, faster than he would want to, and it’s not Genji’s tongue what does it for him -albeit is helping-. It is the endearments, the throaty moans, and grunts that come through the line and go right to his cock, the fact that he could say stop and McCree would cry out his frustration and put a dead stop to it just for him. But soft and horny as he is Hanzo wants more of those and when his name leaves McCree’s lips. “Hanzo…” he comes hard and sudden into Genji’s mouth. Surprised, his brother sucks and swallows his load, elongating his pleasure and fucking through his fluttering ass with deft fingers.

McCree lies covered by a thin coat of sweat and thick pearlescent pools of his own spend in his stomach. He pants into the room, wanting to laugh from joy at the release he thought wouldn’t come tonight, at the ragged breath that accompanies his own through the phone. When he imagines Genji still latching on Hanzo’s cock his own twitches in interest but he ignores it in favor of the weariness invading him.

“McCree?”

“’Bout time ya’ called me Jesse, don’t ya’ think?”

A low chuckle follows while Hanzo accommodates Genji on his chest, the little brat flushed and content with his doing, chin on his sternum and glancing up at him with knowing black voids. A deep sigh distracts him from the enrapturing image of his brother. “Sleepy?”

“Yeah,” McCree says, eyes closed and head turned to a side to trap the phone between the pillow and his cheek.

“Sleep well,” Hanzo says as a half-smile creeps up his face.

“Ya’ too, darlin’.”

When Hanzo hangs up, the last thing he hears is a rumbling snore he remembers from the other night. Genji’s smile grows wide and smug. “Did you have fun?” Hanzo arches an eyebrow, caressing his brother’s arms from the elbows to his shoulders and back.

“You like him,” Genji says, defying Hanzo to deny it.

“I enjoy the _liaison_ ,” Hanzo says, chewing his cheek to prevent the dopey smile that his post-orgasmic state wants to engrave on his face.

“You truly like him.”

Hanzo grips his arms and tackles Genji on the bed. “I should punish you,” Hanzo growls, pinning him to the mattress and rutting against his body, feeling him hard and relishing in the loud moan of Genji as he does.

“Hanzo!” Genji pouts. He wraps arms and legs around his flustered older brother, peppering kisses along his neck to smooth his mood. “This reminds me of our nights at home.”

“This is our home now,” Hanzo mutters, a long sigh leaving his lungs while he drags his lips in the juncture that joins his neck and shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” Genji whispers into his ear. “Make love to me as you did back then.”

Hanzo groans at the memory of their youngster years together, at how he would sneak into Genji’s bed to take what it is rightfully his night after night. Genji never turned him down, always willingly waiting for him. “Aishite imasu,” Hanzo whispers into his ear, lips brushing the shell of his ear, tickling him. Hanzo will take him again tonight, furtive and needy, by the time he will get him ready he will be hard for him again to slide home.

It is just like back then, fast, sweaty, ragged breaths echoing in unison as they fuck. Genji’s body arching underneath him meeting his unmerciful onslaughts, cock plunged deep inside him. They had no time to share a bed properly, fear sneaking their minds any moment at being discovered. Hanzo spent inside him once or twice before he endured the torture of coming back to his own mattress, right beside him, but too far away for their enamored hearts. Perhaps that’s why Hanzo revels in the self-discipline and control he has now; perhaps it doesn’t matter at all because when he thrusts in and out of Genji nothing else matters.

“Genji…” Hanzo’s hearty gasp fills the room once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that was Doomfist ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Hanzo, darling, you're playing with fire... (*/ω＼*)  
> I will warn the tag updates at the notes from now on since there will be Rope Bondage/Shibari coming soon.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading !! ೕ(˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ๑) Bare with me a little....


	4. Peckish cowboy

A week was too much the first time, now it’s been three days and McCree aches for it, for him. The mission took longer than he expected and, though while working he was fine, the nights endlessly tossing and turning in bed had him sleepless and longing. Lucky for him, Gabriel occupied most of his nights too, inspecting one building after another and following what seemed an untraceable signal that moved to a different place so randomly not even Athena could calculate a pattern accurately.

After the third night, the commander decided this was useless and probably a diversion to keep them busy while Talon watched their every move. McCree could have told him that the first day, but his stubbornness got better results most of the time, and even if they invested too many resources lurking in the industrial district, they didn’t come home empty-handed. Akande Ogundimu is in the city leading the Talon team and, oblivious to his true intentions yet, everything points that he wants to get rid of the Blackwatch presence first and then expand Talon’s claws within the city. McCree worries about Hanzo and what that means. His alliance with Blackwatch is fragile and they ensure the safety of the Shimada-gumi for as long as they work together, but something is amiss and, tired and weary as he is, McCree cannot fit the pieces together and neither can the commander.

There are too many things they don’t know about a foreign city whose leaders hide behind a yakuza enterprise led by the Shimada name. Ancient rules they are unaware of, businesses older than themselves, and even thought McCree wants to trust Hanzo in business as much as in bed… he is smart enough to keep his reservations. If Gabriel finds out what he is up to, it will blow on his face faster than gunpowder. 

The lovely thought of Hanzo draws a thin smile to his lips, the aircraft swaying and cradling him as they land into the safety of their base. Improvised headquarters that he intends to leave as soon as he can to the apartment he enjoys as part of his undercover agent benefits. But when McCree dusts his hat and gathers his belongings Gabriel calls him for a debriefing, even if it’s five in the morning and he hasn’t slept since forever.

Fortunately, half an hour and too many yawns convince the commander to release him with a shore leave for the next day -so generous-. He could sleep on the base, but McCree takes one of the safe cars and drives. The cold, morning air washes his face and keeps him awake. A cigar on his mouth helps too, the ashes flying outside the window of the car followed by the clouds of smoke that leave his lungs. McCree recalls the last few nights as a nightmare, embarrassment washing through him when, in furtive moments of the day or night, he’d text Hanzo to turn his phone off right after. _I can’t stop thinking about ya’,_ _darlin_ _’. Let me touch myself. I can’t sleep_. Hanzo hoarded the few hours he had to sleep, always in his mind, answering his negative, his wish for him to wait one more day. McCree didn’t dare to call, afraid of spilling himself right when his velvety voice caressed his ears.

As soon as he arrives home, he texts Hanzo. _I need to see you, I just came back_ . Then he realizes it’s still too early in the morning, his eagerness taking the better of him when what he really needs is some hours of sleep and a hot shower. McCree undresses on his way to the bedroom, carefully tossing peacekeeper on top of the drawer when his phone chimes. _Rest. Meet me for lunch at my office if your eagerness chases you when you wake up_.

McCree snorts, unable to deny the truth of his words and relieved at Hanzo’s common sense. He falls face down on the bed, phone still in hand and, before he even closes his eyes, an unavoidable drowsiness conquers his brain and puts him to sleep with the promise of a bite of the object of his obsession as soon as he wakes up.

 

A dopey smile stretches his lips and Hanzo, still well tucked in bed with Genji by his side, turns around to spoon his little brother for a few minutes before he starts his routine. He needed him tonight after the awful _date_ with Akande. Hanzo nuzzles longingly at his nape, his smell interlaced with his own and so alike he cannot tell them apart anymore. “Hanzo?” Genji murmurs in his sleep but he shushes him, a caring hand soothing him back to sleep while feeble kisses stroke his bare shoulder.

Hanzo slides out of bed even if it’s still too early. His phone dims into the darkness of the room. He reaches for it only to find McCree has come back from his mission and is as eager as himself to meet again. His heart betrays him racing at this early hour of the day as he answers the message and settles an encounter later at lunch. Hanzo cannot wait any longer, not after the two nights that turned into three unexpectedly, not when McCree’s messages tempted him like nothing else and have him rutting for him like a teenager. The only thing that made it bearable was that he knew he’d come back to him dutifully and full with wanton.

The noise of the running water of the shower brings him to the present, and he takes off his underwear to slip inside the cabin and relax under the stream. Memories of last night set a lump in his throat. McCree’s absence came timely to meet safely with the Talon leader without raising suspicion, but it wasn’t a meeting he was looking forward, and the thought of a second one shrinks his stomach. Hanzo met with him at his hotel, the fanciest place in Hanamura, discreet also, as he came in through the back, heart thumping at how little he wished a private encounter with this man but walking into the unknown.

To his surprise, Akande waited for him in a private booth with a primly arranged table for two and what he intended to be a charming smile but was a paid of himself grimace. Hanzo forced a smile on his lips at the sight, approaching the scene with careful steps. He rolled his eyes when Akande set the chair aside for him and he almost snorted audibly when the sentence _and they say chivalry is dead_ left the broad man’s mouth.

The dinner elapsed painfully slow. Akande likes to talk about himself, revel in the details he found astonishing about his own persona and, though he offered several praises to Hanzo, his silence encouraged him to keep going in an endless banter about himself. Besides the occasional glances at his phone and frowns of displeasing from Akande, his patience paid up, and Hanzo’s sly smiles achieved a bunch of information seemingly useless but that mixed with Blackwatch’s knowledge could kick this man and his organization out of Hanamura once and for all. For example, his insistence on visiting Venice and the Rialto quarter suggested a location that Blackwatch suspects is the center of operations of Talon worldwide wise, and this hotel, that Akande deems safe enough, could be a key place to find him even though Hanzo doubted he would stay here permanently.

But the most revealing part was his relentless interest in Hanzo and the Shimada-gumi. Apparently, Talon’s presence in Hanamura is essential to the man’s plans and he will take what he wants with or without Hanzo’s blessing. A pity he doesn’t know his true intentions, but luckily, his interest stretches beyond business and Hanzo can exploit it. As soon as they finished dessert and Hanzo thought himself safe and ready to leave, Akande boldly -and too demandingly for Hanzo’s taste- offered a last drink in his luxurious suite as though Hanzo needed to be pampered by useless luxuries he indulges himself often in a daily basis.

He refused as politely as he could, feigning weariness, alluding to business and pleasure should not be mixed hastily. Akande’s rich laugh filled the room while an impertinent hand on the small of his back led Hanzo to the main entrance of the hotel where his car waited for him even though he would have preferred leaving more discreetly. He avoided sighing in relief and yielded into his touch so the rejection stung a bit less. A strong, big hand forbid him to open the back door of the car and Hanzo turned about, glaring at the stubborn man trying to get from him too many things at the same time while offering none. “Play hard to get all you want, Hanzo,” Akande said, towering over him. “I always win.”

Before Hanzo could quip or protest at the blatant flirting he returned scarcely, Akande’s big lips pressed forcefully into his own. The red wine of the dinner tainted his breath, his hands bracketing him against the coldness of the car. Hanzo clenched his fists at both sides of his body, accepting the intruding tongue and yielding to the man’s lust for the greater good. A surprised gasp at the hardness on his thigh left his mouth and Akande misunderstood the squirm of his body underneath for a lover’s eagerness. “Yes, Hanzo. That is the effect you have on me,” Akande growled against his mouth only to take him again in an endless kiss Hanzo wished to put an end.

This was for business, and as any other business, Hanzo handled it wonderfully with the many skills he had learned over the years, not about kissing men -that too- but about finding what others wanted from him and twisting it into his own benefit. Blackwatch wasn’t close enough to Talon to get any useful information, too predictable, too by the book even if Gabriel Reyes was famous for following his own rules, there were rules still and Hanzo had none when the end justify the means of his actions. He had every opportunity to get more, fast, and first-hand intel, but at what cost? How far will he go with a man he despised only to kick him out of his city right after?

Weaknesses, as Hanzo always say, are our biggest liability and, apparently, Akande Ogundimu had a soft spot for him and wanted the Shimada leader by his side and in his bed.

Two fingers of whiskey washed out the taste from his mouth, and two more made him snort in the darkness of his living room at the stupidity of the situation. Now Hanzo stands in the threshold of his apartment, sliding suited arms inside his coat and ready to leave his home for another day trapped inside the Shimada skyscraper. Only that today he looks forward to a certain cowboy.

 

The elevator that takes him to Hanzo’s office brings the same uneasiness to his body than the time before, more even now that he is aware of what Hanzo wants from him and what he wants from Hanzo. Sort of. McCree worries at his bottom lip in a futile attempt to erase the grin from his lips. For three days he could only think about the dirtiest fantasies he wanted to do to him and suddenly the butterflies in his stomach and the thumping heart make him hanker for just a kiss, just a drag of those heavenly lips made to kiss.

The secretary allows him entrance to the office and blesses him with the sight of Hanzo reclined on the Chesterfield sofa, legs crossed, gaze lost over his shoulder, glancing at the wide windows behind him. McCree’s smile widens, closing the doors and relishing in the feint of a smile that Hanzo grants him. He’s fallen deeply even though his brain tries to deny it.

“Howdy,” he says, thumbs under the buckle as he prowls the room waiting for an invitation to sit.

“Hello.” Hanzo nudges with his chin to his side, hiding the slight pout when he realizes McCree isn’t wearing his hat today. “Have you gotten enough sleep? You look tired.” And terribly handsome, Hanzo wishes to praise.

McCree slumps on the couch with a low grunt, scooting closer when the pleading eyes of Hanzo flick at the empty space between them. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“You better be. I have plans for us tonight,” Hanzo purrs, his mood turning into something pleasant and soothing after the past few days on edge.

“Missed me, darlin’?” McCree flirts, braver by his proximity, leaning closer and resting an arm on the back of the couch. He loses his nonchalant smile when Hanzo lifts his hand and runs a callous thumb over his lips. A soft caress that suggests the kiss he wants to give but doesn’t, and McCree dips his tongue out to taste him, a flick of the tongue that glitters in the form of lust in Hanzo’s deep, black eyes.

“By your texts, I guess you missed me too,” Hanzo teases, his smirk growing wide when McCree chuckles and a faint blush creeps up his cheeks. He pushes his flushed face into his palm and Hanzo’s heart melts.

“Tell me about tonight,” McCree ask with a wavering voice, his hand wrapping around Hanzo’s wrist to keep his hand exactly where it is and his thumb caressing his lips.

“I need to know your boundaries. If you agree with what I will do,” Hanzo says in a balmy voice that awakens the lust coiling down his groin for the past three days. McCree curses the imminent erection he will have to bear.

“You can do whatever ya’…” Hanzo’s thumb silences his words.

“I want to wrap you in red rope. Your arms on your back, well secured and restricting your torso.”

“Yes,” McCree gasps, eyes open wide, fixed on those tantalizing voids that swallow him whole and flood him in lust.

“As the other night, I will want to put my fingers and mouth on you, to bite you…” While he hashes out the details of tonight he revels in the sweet gestures of McCree’s lips, in how those wide blown pupils miss nothing and his heaving chest challenges him. “… to fuck you.”

“Yes, darlin’.” It comes out as a pleading beg and McCree curses how much he wants it, his hand clammy and damping the leather below it, his lips dragging over Hanzo’s thumb as he speaks and the grip on his wrist tightening with anticipation.

Hanzo breathes in his excitement. “My aim is your pleasure and not your discomfort, we can move on to simpler things if…” McCree twirls his tongue on the underside of his thumb and Hanzo’s breathing falters.

“Not a chance,” he whispers. “I trust you.” The tenderness of the words accompanied by the gentleness of his eyes make Hanzo’s heart skip a beat. To prevent the love-struck glance which he is poring over McCree, Hanzo dips his thumb inside his mouth and the cowboy takes him with a wolfish grin, licking and playing around the intruder with a sinful tongue that is making the room on his trousers tighten by the second.

“You will have to wait a few more hours,” Hanzo teases and McCree nods before he takes the whole thumb into his mouth and latches on it.

“But I’ve missed ya’ so much,” McCree mumbles, struggling with the finger in his mouth to the point Hanzo snorts and rolls his eyes, suppressing a hearty chuckle. “And I’m a hungry cowboy.”

“What are you hungry for?” Hanzo drawls in a raspy voice, getting closer to him drawn by a magnetic force out of his control. McCree moans when he pulls the thumb out.

“You, darlin’.” McCree closes the distance between them, his lips aching to touch Hanzo in any way he allows it, but a finger falls short. “Throw me a bone, tonight you'll want to take care of everything.” He gasps, feeling Hanzo’s ragged breath puffing on his mouth warm and inviting.

“A menace… as if I had not enough with Genji.”

“Let me give ya’ something now,” McCree begs in a gasp, cock hard and straining in his jeans but that doesn’t surprise him anymore in Hanzo’s presence. “I want to blow you so bad, darlin’. I can’t stop thinking about it since our phone call.” He drowns in those puppy eyes. “Please?”

Hanzo is so close McCree’s lips brush his own as he speaks, his thumb the only thing between them, his stomach curling tight and hot and his loins coiling in arousal mixed with temptation, his self-control unable to hold himself, unless…

“You can suck me but I will not allow you to come.” His smug smile steals a grunt from McCree as he doubts for half a second before nodding dutifully and quickly falling to his knees. Hanzo spreads his legs, scooting down on the couch while McCree kicks smartly the coffee table that leaves behind a dragging noise, making room for himself there. “Eager,” Hanzo growls and flicks his eyes to the swell on his trousers.

McCree rushes his hands to pry open his fly, unfastening his belt, unbuttoning the trousers, sliding down the zipper and suddenly groaning when a foot plays with his heart and the hard sole of a shoe rubs his throbbing cock over his jeans. He glares at Hanzo, at that smug smile he sports, at how a hand rests on his thigh but the other supports his head with convenient knuckles while his elbow finds comfort in the back of the couch. Smug prick, and yet there he is, on his knees.

“I’m gonna erase that smile from yer face as sure as my name is Jesse McCree.”

“I will enjoy while you try,” Hanzo teases.

“Oh sweetheart,” McCree says, nuzzling at his groin while his fingers fight in unison to move the stretchy material of his underwear away until a full erection is right in front of him, oozing clear beads. “It’s gonna be fast.”

McCree revels in the few seconds he takes to admire what a beautiful cock Hanzo Shimada has before his mouth, pulled by gravity, falls on the tip a tad too greedily. A lewd moan reverberates through him while he dips his tongue in the clear pre-cum smearing the head. Salty, soft and tasty as he knew he’d be. He glances up at Hanzo, his smile still there, slightly parted lips and deeply blushing cheeks all of a sudden.

“You are taking your time,” Hanzo says, tapping impatiently his foot over McCree’s groin.

“Ya’ got a pretty thing here, darlin’,” McCree says, dragging his mouth on a side of his cock, a glistening trail of his essence crossing his cheek. A hand wraps around Hanzo and he watches proudly how the grip on the back of the couch tightens. “An’ I wanna take my sweet time before you come in my mouth.” McCree tugs his cock in long strokes that pulls down at his skin and steal another spurt of pre-cum on his way up. “Because sweetheart, the moment I put your dick in my mouth ya’ won’t last.”

“Too much talking, cowboy,” Hanzo says, struggling to keep his breathing in control at how much he wants the heat of his mouth around him.

A low chuckle dies when McCree mouths at his balls, deft fingers pulling down the boxers while his other hand strokes him mercilessly fast and a naughty tongue laps at his skin, lips hoarding as much as they can while the cowboy sucks his sac. And he doesn’t stop until he steals a strangled moan, then the low chuckle comes back and he releases him while a road of kisses travel up the underside, fingers tightly around the base, preventing the hard cock to fall on his stomach.

“Oh, honey…” McCree says, opening his mouth wide to capture the head of his cock into his mouth. Hanzo moans while McCree hums a melody into his cock, hips jerking unavoidably to get more of that wet mouth. He pushes the tip of his foot harshly on McCree’s hard bulge to make him groan and his response is to suck demandingly until his cock twitches in his mouth and Hanzo writhes.

McCree tightens his lips around him, swallowing him inch by inch with little effort at the same time he sucks, the wavering of his mouth enveloping his throbbing cock, a twirling tongue brushing one side, the other. Everything is too much and too little and Hanzo curses in Japanese things McCree cannot understand but encourage him to keep going. He’d want to grin, smug and proud by his doing while he squeezes the pleasure out of Hanzo.

“Who would have thought your big mouth honed such skills, cowboy,” Hanzo says, his ragged breath betraying the smugness of his words. It encourages McCree, who hums a chuckle into his cock, and Hanzo threads fingers on his brown mussed hair, tugging at it and tilting his head to a side.

McCree is a sight to see, yielding to him while he gives him head with the only purpose of choking on a hot gush of his cum. Hanzo knows, he forces his hips still, his foot brushing and rubbing McCree’s cock to reward him, to fuel his desire, to make him desperate for him and for his own release that he will not allow. Not now. Tonight. McCree can have everything tonight and this now, but nothing else.

“Yes,” a loud moan escapes his mouth when the tip of his cock finds the back of his throat and McCree gags, the spasm of his throat sending a surge of pleasure that tightens his balls. “Fuck.”

It is now when Hanzo believes McCree’s threats when he realizes how close he is. His pupils blown wide, imperceptible on his onyx eyes, stare down at the obedient cowboy stealing his control, his stance, his pleasure. He is under his mercy and not his own, and for the first time in a very long time, Hanzo wants to give that to him, allow it, surrender to the sucking force of his mouth around him.

“I’m close,” Hanzo whispers, both hands on his hair, thumbs tracing circles, not pulling just keeping him there and following his movements. There is no way he would move, not when McCree is doing exactly what he wants, what he needs, and so perfectly he would beg for more. The realization strikes him. “More, Jesse…” The words in his brain translate into sounds that elicit a needy moan, a sob, that vibrates right into his cock.

McCree’s stomach curls up tightly, needing air but needing more to suck and drink Hanzo’s orgasm. So, he keeps going, dragging him halfway out to shove his thick cock back into his mouth swiftly, because it belongs there because he cannot stop sucking and drooling on it, latching until the bittersweet reward of his cum floods his mouth. He wants to learn the engorged veins by heart, every twitch, every soft spot he will exploit like the gambler he is because inflicting pleasure to Hanzo Shimada is the best rush of his life. He could easily get off from it, he’d ruin his underwear if that foot hadn’t stopped moving, he’d come if he could sneak a hand inside his jeans and squeeze his cock. Just that. But he cannot.

 _Come for me, darling_ , he wants to say while Hanzo’s fingers ghost between the strands of his hair and the office walls muffle bitten back moans and whines sorely to not make a scandal to anyone who passes by. As an irrepressible urge, Hanzo rocks his hips into his mouth and McCree relaxes around him, taking the gentle thrusts as the gift they are and waiting impatiently for his release. His head falls slack back on the Chesterfield and a throaty groan leaves his lungs at the same time Hanzo shoots his load into McCree’s throat.

McCree sucks for more, milking him dry with his mouth, relishing in the jerking of his cock, the tightening of his balls and the spurts he cannot taste because they glide right down his throat and all he can do is to swallow. Greedy for more, McCree drags back a little, gathering in his tongue the last droplets, his prize, the bitter reward for his doing accompanied with another low moan when he laps at the sensitive slit, the head pulling back to hide in a softened hood. At this moment McCree lavishes from spit and cum his cock wishing it was hard to start all over again.

Hanzo chuckles softly and his lustful eyes meet him instantly. Electricity flashes through them like a lightning bolt in a summer storm. His heart puts a dead stop to his life there and comes back to him when Hanzo drags him up by the collar of his shirt, opening his mouth in the half a second that takes him to straighten before their mouths collide together in a messy, luscious kiss that steals his reason and wits. _Damn Hanzo Shimada_ , McCree curses inwardly.

A strand of onyx, silky hair caresses his cheek while they kiss and McCree fondles Hanzo’s thighs and opens his mouth to him. His tongue is shamelessly gathering his own taste from his mouth, stealing it from him, and it makes his neglected cock twitch inside his jeans in a silent protest. His hips rock into Hanzo’s knee and without noticing, he is grinding against him for as long as the kiss lasts until Hanzo notices and clicks his tongue, chastising him for it.

“McCree,” Hanzo whispers the warning. “Tonight.” A desperate gasp leaves his lungs because deep in his heart he knows his threat is immovable. But a sweet whine enlightens the room when the Shimada palms him over his jeans. “Come here.” He drags him into another languid kiss, slower, calmer, the one a sated lover gives after their climax. “I will reward you tonight, I promise.” The words offer little comfort to his cock but soothe his mind and heart, cursing how much he has fallen for him, how deep, such a stupid cowboy he is.

McCree breathes out his frustration, sitting beside him on the couch while Hanzo adjusts his trousers and fetches for a pack of cigarettes from the distant coffee table. He offers one to McCree, but he refuses, watching instead how the filter sticks to his wet bottom lip while he blindly reaches for the lighter in the inner pocket of his jacket and offers a light with a wolfish grin, less intimidating by the flushed cheeks.

“Thank you,” Hanzo mumbles before he takes a long, deep drag with a satisfying groan and fills his lungs. The smoke leaves his mouth slowly and fogs the air between them. McCree stares, mesmerized at how his swollen lips purse and how much he’d want to be the smoke warming him up from the inside out.

“Give me a puff.”

“I offered you one,” Hanzo says, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Sharing is caring,” McCree jests. Inhaling once more from the cigarette and leaning closer to McCree, Hanzo holds his breath. The cowboy smiles, his heart thumps, his mind forgets his aching cock, and he parts his lips obediently while Hanzo breathes out a cloud of smoke, of lust, of so much more than sex. He was right, and McCree savors the tobacco, the lingering taste of cum still in his mouth and fills his lungs with the little he breathes.

“Will you take everything I give you?”

“Blindly.” McCree tugs behind his ear the rebellious lock of hair on a side of Hanzo’s face and revels in the sweet smile and pink tint making him the most gorgeous man he has ever seen. His eyes glaze with contentment, the after sex suits him all too well.

Hanzo feels his feet pull down by a force stronger than gravity, forbidding his brain to ruin this moment for him. He will think about it later, stress about it later, now they are here, sharing quietly an innocent cigarette that burns twice as fast between their shared mouths until McCree steals it from his hand, tired of Hanzo teasing and offering drags from his own slender fingers.

“Ya’ called me Jesse, sweetheart.” A smug smile grows wide on his lips.

The red comes up his cheeks, he suddenly is grateful McCree has taken the cig because he would have dropped it between them and, naked and exposed, he falls for his mouth once more, thick tobacco mixed with his own essence, everything intertwined in a heavenly mix. This tastes like freedom, sex, lust, wanton, and fucking love.

Hanzo moans his fears and McCree takes it all right into his thirsty mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. As always, thank you so much for reading my stuff. It means a lot to me when someone else enjoy the fics I put hours and effort into ✧٩(ˊωˋ*)و✧ 
> 
> The last part was for you Captain! (´ゝз・`)ﾉ⌒☆
> 
> Also, next chapter is loooooooong and smutty. Expect Rope Bondage/Shibari (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄
> 
> Extra: Again, I've been blessed by CaptainNeedsNoSleep art and I have added it to the fic, but make sure you follow her on [tumblr](https://captainneedsnosleep.tumblr.com/) and give her some love!!


	5. Build a loop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Build a loop" in cowboy slang refers to shaking out a coil of rope in preparation for roping. ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Juicy NSFW fanart at the end by the lovely CaptainNeedsNoSleep!! Don't miss it ! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

McCree slept the whole afternoon swathed by tonight’s promises of Hanzo’s body on top of his own. At this point and after _lunch_ in his office, he won’t lie to himself denying the obvious warmth in his heart whenever he is around him. Bad idea or not, right or wrong, it happened, and he decides to tell Gabe as soon as he gathers a little courage or when he figures out what is he exactly going to say. But he is a liability to Blackwatch and they should pull him out of the mission before it’s too late. He can only hope he and Hanzo will keep seeing each other afterward, for sex… or more than sex.

A long exhale tries to push the gloomy thoughts to the back of his mind to focus on the building that grows tall and proud in front of him once more. And atop, lives the owner of his pleasure: Hanzo Shimada. The short travel through the hall and the elevator goes by like a heady dream, as everything that surrounds Hanzo, it intoxicates his senses and fogs his mind to the point he often worries at how defenseless he is around him. His guard down, damn, even tied up tonight and willing to do things he’d deny to most lovers. Hanzo could do anything to him and he wouldn’t see it coming despite his cowboy gut assures him he is fine and safe. That’s what scares him the most.

The queasiness in his stomach and the intruding thoughts fade away as soon as a smug smile and glazing eyes greet him from the doorstep. How he would love to fall on those lips casually, offering his lust to him, but McCree fears pushing him away, showing too much of the affection he holds for Hanzo and not trusting the sexual frustration that may lead his heart because well, if McCree knows he isn’t good at keeping out of trouble he also knows he thinks with his cock.

But it is Hanzo who pulls him into a soft kiss as a greeting with a familiarity that steals a heartbeat and a surprised gasp. There are few people who can still surprise him and there he is, mouth agape letting out a moan and asking for a deeper kiss. McCree gets it, a long and languid kiss that mingles their mouths together, tongue intruding and awakening three days of abstinence in a sudden hard-on.

“Nighty,” he whispers, breathing the same air and relishing in the smirk that stretches his lips.

Hanzo wears a simple white shirt and trousers, but his shape astonishes him and a strange uneasiness shrinks his stomach. What are they doing? Why is he here? McCree acts recklessly, but this is madness. Hanzo is a yakuza, his target, a mission, someone to betray eventually, the personification of the things they fight to defeat. And yet he falls for those dark, mesmerizing eyes, for the hand that takes his and leads them to the bedroom where he believes the world could end and he wouldn’t care. He is such a stupid cowboy…

Swallowing his thoughts, McCree accepts the intoxicating aura of Hanzo and yields to it, besotted by a man who is about to wrap him in rope and raise him to heaven. “You seem nervous,” Hanzo says, scrutinizing him with his eyes. Apparently, Hanzo Shimada can read minds.

“A ‘lil,” McCree confesses, eyeing a tidy coil of red rope on a corner of the bed.

“We can order food and enjoy a calmed evening,” Hanzo frowns, feigning indifference but bursting with impatience. “You must be tired.”

“Are ya’ asking me on a date, darlin’?” McCree jests and steals a hearty chuckle and a slight blush. He feels braver and closes the distance between them.

“Do not be so cocky,” Hanzo teases, winding an arm around his shoulders while the other tries to cradle the impossibly thick cock in one hand, eliciting a grunt. “We both know you are agog.”

“That ain’t fair, you drive me mad, sweetheart,” McCree whispers, rocking into his hand, towering over Hanzo and dragging his lips over a smug smile that will accompany him to hell. Hanzo should be a capital sin.

“As you Americans say.” Hanzo squeezes him in his hand and lands a peck on his lips for every word. “I will blow your mind.”

“Damned the day I met you,” McCree murmurs and his eyes glitter with contentment, pleased by the praise, oblivious at how fond he is of him. But there is a spark, something deep inside those eyes that he cannot quite read, hidden behind lust and the tingling energy between them. Perhaps he got it all wrong, perhaps the chemistry will eventually fade when he isn’t obsessed with him, when Hanzo loses his interest and he has nothing left to give. The corner of Hanzo’s lip twitches upward and it frees him from the dark place his mind drifted into.

“I made promises today,” Hanzo says, his hands deftly opening McCree’s shirt, defying the buttons one by one and revealing the hairy chest of McCree. “And I intend to reward you for your restraint.”

“I hit the jackpot,” McCree jests and wiggles his eyebrows.

Hanzo sighs to suppress a chuckle. It is unbelievable how easily this man makes him laugh with bad jokes and fast quips. “I will take your clothes off and then truss you up.” He notices how McCree’s chest heaves faster and he sneaks both hands underneath the shirt, caressing his shoulders while the garment drapes over his skin and falls at their feet. “It will take a while.”

“We have all night and tomorrow too,” McCree says with a wolfish grin, his hands going to unbuckle his belt when Hanzo clicks his tongue and stops him.

“I will unwrap you and then tie you in my favorite ropes,” Hanzo says, removing his hands and taking off the belt with a tug. The buckle makes a clinking noise when it drops unceremoniously on the floor. “The only thing you have to do is enjoy yourself.”

Those words whispered in the sultriest raspy voice he has ever heard clench his stomach and stand his cock. “Yes, darlin’.” As though he could refuse, stock still while Hanzo kneels before him, swooping down carefully his jeans and underwear, taking off his shoes and exposing him as he came to the world.

As soon as he is naked, Hanzo leads him closer to the bed, a comfortable rug underneath his feet. “Do you need something before we begin?”

“I’m all set, sweetheart,” McCree says as a shy smile stretches his lips. He is nervous, Hanzo can tell, but he also knows he wants this badly. His nakedness before a perfectly dressed Hanzo raises the excitement up a notch. Hanzo cups his face, his unkempt beard scratching the palm of his hand.

“If you want out of rope, I will have you free in an instant,” Hanzo says, reassuring.

“I’ve been tied up before,” McCree says, breathing faster, impatiently.

“Not like this.” The hoarse voice tints the words with a roughness that sends a frisson down his body and McCree swallows.

“I trust you,” he says, gentle eyes staring into his own and cracking the wall inside Hanzo. “And I’ve trained for worse.”

“You, fool.” A mischievous smile grows wide on Hanzo’s lips and even then, nothing would make McCree step out of that bedroom until he had what has been promised. But when Hanzo takes the rope in his hands McCree flusters and the red comes up urgently to his cheeks, breathing out slowly and trying to ease his mind. Hanzo rounds him, crimson rope gliding beautifully between his hands until he disappears at his back. “Lift your arms for me.”

The rope isn’t cold or excessively rough, but it scratches and rubs his skin while Hanzo slides the bight at the center of his back. His breath seizes in his lungs when he brings the working ends around the front in the opposite direction and he feels the first tightness around his torso. “I need you to breathe, Jesse…” Hanzo whispers, standing on his tiptoes to kiss gently at his nape, relaxing his whole body with a shudder. McCree obeys and closes his eyes.

It is strange how soothing his hands are, how relaxed and methodically Hanzo moves around him, tugging, wrapping, testing the knots, their placement, his comfort. It melts McCree’s heart and that same atmosphere invades him quickly with every inch of rope that roves his skin. He lowers his arms and Hanzo secures them to the body harness at both sides where the ropes cross, with a column tie on each upper arm, far enough from the elbow joint. “Grip your forearms together on your back as comfortably as you can.”

Comfortable is not the word that McCree would use to define it, but he complies using the little leverage he has on his shoulders, strangely enjoying the sensation of being restrained and giving up control to Hanzo. With every heave of his chest, the ties resist the stretching and grind against his skin. Hanzo was right, he’s been tied up before, but not like this. There is an allure in how the rope moves against his skin, fighting the subtle unconscious movements of his body but also arousing him to an unknown level judging by the undeniable erection between his legs. His muscles flex, his breath hitches, and he revels in the burn of the ropes.

“Do not fight them,” Hanzo says, making sure his ties are snug, the knots pressing where they must and not elsewhere, that he isn’t forcing any joints or pulling any muscles. This is an art he takes pleasure in and McCree’s body, burly and extremely well-built rattles his breath and takes away his control. He was made for this. Hanzo sports a nice hard-on since the first loop he wrapped around him.

“It ain’t that easy.” McCree gasps and a soothing hand squeezes his left.

“Are we good?”

“Yes, darlin’,” McCree says, trying to get a glimpse of Hanzo turning his head to a side but accepting another kiss between his shoulder blades as the sweetest substitute. This side of Hanzo has him off guard, such gentleness mixed with the roughness of the ropes, the straining feeling of helplessness that comes with it and his own pleasure building up slowly in anticipation.

A double column tie secures loosely the forearms together, rendering them unable to be used, and the ends go back to the harness. Hanzo tugs again at his work even though he has done it a million times, and it is just a simple crossed harness. He slides easily a finger between the ropes and the skin, tests once more the knots and, on his way, maps with eager hands McCree’s body, relishing in the beautiful red marks that start to show on his flesh, on how his muscles flex, fighting the ties, how his chest fills and deflates and nothing gives in. A cowboy perfectly trapped for him in his ropes. Hanzo suppresses a moan at the sight, rounding again to face him. Hanzo will wrap him again, thoroughly, arms and legs, and everything he can take.

A thin layer of sweat drenches his skin, his muscles stand out lusciously in the dim light, even the scars, and his usually honeyed eyes are almost black now. A telltale of his excitement. Hanzo smirks, hands squeezing the trapped pecs, nipples perking at his touch. He steals a guttural groan from the cowboy when he pinches mercilessly a brown tip while his hand tugs at the hard cock between them.

“Already hard for me?” Hanzo teases and McCree tenses, his arms fighting the restrains while a wolfish grin grows wide on him.

“Hey,” he blurts out. “What if I would have… ya’ know, been naughty?”

Hanzo arches a questioning eyebrow. “I would have to bend you over my knee and spank you.” The clarity in which he announces this makes McCree snort and then a hearty laugh fills the room, amused by the idea and surely wanting to have a taste of that too. Maybe he could rub one off the next time and see how delicious the punishment is. But the ruthless man in front of him glimpses his intentions, squeezing his cock and running a thumb up and down the underside while he grips his chin between his fingers and makes him look down.

“I am not joking,” Hanzo threatens. “And if for a moment you think about taking your pleasure without my consent, I will not only spank you but keep you on edge for hours only to ruin your orgasm.”

“Luckily, I’m a good boy,” McCree drawls in the accent that drives Hanzo mad, his soft spot, and cursed be the day the cowboy discovers it.

“Sometimes I spank good boys too,” Hanzo says with a devilish grin, tugging slightly at the ropes on the front to test once more he has taken all the precautions necessary to ensure McCree’s pleasure and his own. The jesting relaxes McCree though his threat was not merely empty words. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it and Genji can vouch for it. “Can you breathe comfortably?”

“I wouldn’t say comfortably but I can take it,” McCree says, fighting uselessly the ties once more.

“Any discomfort, numbness or sting you need to tell me.” McCree nods, a half-smile pulling the corner of his mouth upward. “Especially on your fingers and wrists.”

“Yes, darlin’.”

His willingness to please stirs something up inside Hanzo, curls up his stomach, makes him want to take him hard and long until he burns out the desperate desire coiling inside him. Will it ever fade? Hanzo admires the man in front of him, tall, proud and so at his mercy he shivers from sheer pleasure. McCree is a sight to behold, strong, built in battle, and Hanzo senses his throat go dry and raspy at the thought of his weight on top of him.

“Stay there until I tell you.”

With that simple command, McCree shifts uncomfortably in place, toes playing with the soft rug while he learns to accept the ropes surrounding him. Hanzo stands before him, between the heat of his body and the bed what seems too far for him. There is a loneliness in the sensation that shrinks his stomach, aching for a touch, for a contact a few inches away from him. Hanzo unbuttons his shirt and slides it open, revealing the ink on his chest and arm and the muscles built on grueling training. How deadly Hanzo truly is? McCree wonders, panting slightly at the sight. By the time Hanzo gets rid of his trousers and wears only his own skin just for McCree, the cowboy is drooling, wishing to touch and feel his warmth against his skin.

A gasp leaves his mouth when Hanzo roams his arms along his shoulders, flexing uselessly underneath the crimson restraints. “Darlin’…” It escapes his lips treacherously and Hanzo shushes him lovingly, stepping closer until their chests brush together, until he nuzzles at his neck. A wet tongue laps and licks the fading bruise from their previous night together.

“Please.” Hanzo bites gently, gritting teeth against sweaty skin, tongue preparing the flesh for the real bite, the one that marks him again and steals a whine. He feels Hanzo’s length against his thigh but forbids himself to grind against it, instead focusing on what he gets, on what Hanzo offers.

“You are delicious,” Hanzo whispers, clenching his teeth demandingly around the cowboy, his nipples, his neck, anywhere he can find. _Mine_ , they say. _All mine_. He drags his lips over the soft skin on his throat, the stubble scratching and teasing and Hanzo follows the line of the jaw. McCree tilts his head back and waits for a bite, but he gets a kiss on his Adam’s apple that elicits a moan.

Hanzo’s hands are all over him, soft and tender in contrast to the roughness in which the ropes squeeze him. And yet his mind is at peace, nothing exists but them, his hands, his mouth on him, kissing, nibbling, tasting him, however Hanzo deems. And McCree surrenders, pliant under his touch and losing track of time. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore but him. But then Hanzo steps away, out of his reach, and his will falters, gazing at him while he reaches for the hair tie on the back of his head and a black sea of hair drapes over his shoulders. McCree fights the ropes with a grunt, he wants to bury his face there and scent the sheer essence of Hanzo to print it in his mind for lonely nights where they are no longer together. He can read minds because Hanzo leans forward and stands on his tiptoes.

“Am I also a temptation to you?” He murmurs against his ear but his answer is a lungful of Hanzo, hiding his nose and cheek in the silky hair that tickles and smells musky and deep. Sweet dreams. His fingers brush together at his back as though he could touch it, thread them in the black strands and realize, indeed, it is the softest silk of all.

“Hanzo.” He will never tire of his name, of his smell, his touch, and he whimpers uselessly when the Shimada sits on the bed, spreads his knees and takes himself in hand.

How he would want to fall on his knees before him, taste him again but not in a rush like the hungry man that blew him this afternoon. Slow and languid until the wavering of his sucking mouth is enough to push him over the edge of his climax. Hanzo strokes himself leisurely, an intent ogling making him blush deeply but loving every single bit of it.

“Come closer.”

His feet move before he can order them to walk and gets as close as he can, feet between Hanzo’s legs, his cock standing firmly and proudly in front of his face. Greedy hands caress his thighs and travel to his backside, fondling his ass while a wide smirk grows on Hanzo’s lips. As the big mouth he always is, McCree is ironically tongued-tied, bedazzled by what is about to happen and not worried for a single second about the outcome. He will cry out Hanzo’s name as many times as the Shimada demands. If he demands it, and he is so ready for it his heart aches.

Hanzo scoots closer, hands kneading rhythmically his buttocks while his lips kiss at his hip joint and trace an invisible line to the fuzz gathered at the hilt. Brown thick hair where Hanzo nuzzles and breathes in. His tongue darts out to lick the stretched skin at the hilt, his cock twitches in interest and McCree stares down at Hanzo while he opens his mouth and traps a side of his cock, tongue flat against him, teeth testing how hard he is and the cowboy moans at the sight. Hanzo smiles mischievously, kissing and teasing as well as he knows, a hand renouncing the alluring butt cheek in favor on a thick cock. He wraps it around his girth, lines it up with his mouth.

“You can come whenever you want.”

“That’s gonna be embarrassingly fast,” McCree teases, hands fighting to free themselves and thread in Hanzo’s hair.

There is no time to chuckle when an eager mouth closes around the head, a soft tongue circling the tip in leisurely laps that make his knees tremble. Sharp, silver tongue as skilled as he knew he’d be. Hanzo moans around his girth, shoving an inch, dragging back, tongue brushing the underside so smartly McCree already feels like coming. The hair falls at one side of his face and Hanzo tucks it behind his ear before those swollen lips surround him and swallow half his shaft. The movements of his mouth are a sweet torture but he stays still, mesmerized, watching his cock disappear into his wet, hot mouth over and over, glistening in spit and pre-cum, throbbing eagerly for more. His balls are tight and ready, and when he eyes Hanzo stroking his own cock urgently, stopping with a loud moan that reverberates in his cock, McCree groans his pleasure into the room.

“For God’s sake.”

He does it again, getting off while sucking him, and McCree holds for dear air, Hanzo’s fist jerking him off at the same pace he sinks his cock into his mouth until he reaches the gagging throat and a surge of pleasure ripples through him. McCree would want this to last forever, but with no restraint besides the uncomfortable ropes forbidding his body to stretch, his arousal floods him. The air fills his lungs, he seizes his breath, hands tight and nails leaving crescent moon indents in his own forearms. Hanzo keeps him deep inside his mouth, nose nuzzling the fuzz at the hilt while he sucks, cock tapping his throat, tongue swirling accompanying the movement as he swallows and McCree comes hard in a hot burst at the same time a loud moan echoes in the bedroom. The ropes hug him tightly against his torso when his body tries to release the jolt of pleasure, and McCree forces himself to open his eyes, to look down, his cock still twitching and spurting on Hanzo’s mouth, elongating his pleasure at the same time his cock throbs in his hand. The Shimada forbids his body to surrender to the climax he so harshly pursues. Hanzo moans, hums, and sucks the deliciousness of McCree’s pleasure on his tongue instead.

Hanzo drags him out slowly, still half-hard. With the help of his hand, he laps at the tip, and McCree squirms, whines and bites his bottom lip until he almost draws blood. That soft tongue against his oversensitive cock is a torture but he cannot stop it while Hanzo, flustered and dripping spit down his chin, is so determined to lap even the last pearlescent droplet that oozes out of him.

“So tasty, so good for me,” Hanzo praises, licking his lips.

“Oh darlin’,” McCree chuckles. “How ‘bout you on your knees next time?” He finishes with a wink.

Hanzo smiles and slaps a side of his ass. “Earn it first,” he teases. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Any pain?”

“No, I’m good,” McCree says with a sweet smile and a shallow breath, narrowing his eyes at how Hanzo inspects him. “Are ya’ going to untie me?” A part of him wants to stretch and be free but another wants to see what comes next, how long can he endure the uncomfortable restraint that is much more bearable now that his body is flooded with the after climax. Hanzo smiles, standing in front of him

“Untie you?” Hanzo says and chuckles while his finger hooks a red rope and pulls. “You are mine like this forever.” It brightens up his smile that statement. _Forever. Mine_. McCree forbids his eyes to pour a love-struck on Hanzo now. He’s way too vulnerable and there is so much to endure, but maybe he can accept those words as true, just tonight, as long as the ropes hold him together for Hanzo. “Now I want you kneeling on the mattress,” Hanzo whispers into his mouth before a feeble kiss caresses his lips.

“Yes, darlin’,” McCree gasps.

Hanzo helps him with a firm hand holding the back of the harness. They both climb up the bed, McCree kneeling and sitting on his calves, Hanzo stabilizing his position until he spreads his knees and sits straight. McCree is surprised at how strong is Hanzo, how he manhandles him carefully to where he wants. His breathing peaks as soon as he tries to take a deep breath and the ropes tighten around him.

“Relax,” Hanzo whispers behind him, tender hands mapping the expanse of his shoulders until the slow movements soothe him. McCree focuses on the lingering brush of crimson rope on his skin following the natural movements of his body, he sinks into the bed, Hanzo’s heat and his presence at his back is a blessing. He checks the ties on his forearms, thumbs rubbing and caressing the sensitive skin.

“I’m okay,” McCree whispers, turning about to get a glimpse of a smile before the click of a stopper surprises him. When and how did Hanzo get a bottle of lube, he didn’t see and doesn’t care but McCree writhes impatiently, knees spreading another inch and back arching at him.

“Eager…” Hanzo teases, warms up the lube between his fingers while he peppers McCree’s neck with kisses. Then he steals a hearty moan when his coated fingers glide back and forth his rim, teasing and rubbing right at his ass. “I am going to open you up for me,” he whispers, lips stroking the shell of his ear.

“Please.”

Hanzo bites the earlobe while a finger slides inside the tight hole. McCree is hot inside, impossibly tight at how he clenches around it. “I cannot wait to be inside you.” Another moan fills the room when he fucks him unhurriedly, waiting for him to relax. Hanzo throws an arm around his waist to secure McCree straight, to fondle and knead his stomach, muscles flexing, writhing, and he travels up, his chest heaving regularly in the same rhythm Hanzo pushes in and pulls out of him. Hanzo groans when he feels McCree’s heart thumping, at the little whine when he adds the tip of another finger and thrusts until he fits them both.

The burn of the ropes is nothing in front of the burn of those fingers stretching him. McCree is thankful that Hanzo holds him from behind because he would fall face down on the mattress only to get more of this. He didn’t know how much he needed this until now. “You feel so good, Jesse.” His name, he could sob at how much he likes the sound of it in his mouth, so much his knees tremble.

Hanzo releases him and grips the harness at his back, supporting him while his fingers fuck him faster as though he is in a hurry. Perhaps he is. Hanzo’s hot breath puffs on the back of his neck and he leans into it, hoping for a kiss, a bite. Hanzo inhales deeply the sweaty, manly scent coming from him and McCree gets it, a mean bite, and moans when unmerciful teeth close around his neck. “Ah…” he lets out, overwhelmed by the little things that should discomfort him, the straining of his arms, already tired and heavy hanging from his back, the burning receding on his ass, Hanzo’s love bites, but all he can feel is an immeasurable pleasure growing wide and tight in his loins. His cock is hard again. “More.”

“Can you bend over for me?” Hanzo whispers in a raspy voice at which he can only accept blindly to anything it asked.

“Yes, darlin’.”

Hanzo leaves him empty even though McCree’s sigh breaks his heart and motions a pillow below him. Hanzo helps him through, clinging to the harness until McCree’s cheek caresses the soft bedding, chest on the bulge underneath for leverage, his knees digging holes on the mattress when he lifts his ass up at him. The red comes up his face at how exposed he is, how vulnerable and ready to be fucked in earnest. McCree aches for it, and by Hanzo’s low growl behind him, he aches for it too.

Fresh lube on his ass and there are again two fingers softening the ring muscle, spreading and snatching together while a hot palm rubs the small of his back. He is so hard again, he never went soft, his cock went from half-hard to a new full erection. Pre-cum leaks from his cock and Hanzo hasn’t even… a loud moan echoes when Hanzo brushes a soft spot and he pushes into his fingers to get another rush.

“Oh damn,” McCree whines.

“Will you come like this for me?”

“Yes darlin’, please,” McCree begs. “Fuck me with that pretty cock of yours.” It undoes Hanzo to levels he didn’t believe possible, and he squeezes another finger in, thrusting the bundle in and out of him. “If ya’ keep going like this, I…” McCree gasps, pressing his forehead into the mattress. “… I’ll come.”

“Come for me then,” Hanzo says hoarsely, fingers shoved to the second knuckle and further in with every thrust. He makes sure to curl them down, to fuck him with them so nice and good his fingertips brush and put pressure against his prostate every other lunge. “I know you can.”

McCree moans, his legs tense beautifully, balls tight again and Hanzo keeps his unmerciful pace because he will send him over the edge. His left hand wraps around his cock and kneads it, stealing a melodic symphony of whines and wails mixed with his name and unintelligible nonsense. McCree comes sudden and hard, his ass flutters around his fingers, his cock shots another load on the bedding, twitching in Hanzo’s hand. It is so beautiful Hanzo feels his feet pulled to the ground by this earthly pleasure, he would spend his nights guiding the cowboy to his climax and die a happy man the morning after.

“Damn, you,” McCree mutters, slack and spent.

Hanzo withdraws his fingers, steals the other fluffy pillow and places it underneath the cowboy’s lower belly, pressing with a hand on his ass so he relaxes on it. He hovers over his body on his four, kissing a sweaty, flustered cheek and relishing in the sweet noises of a ragged breath out of control. “You are unbelievably gorgeous like this,” he praises.

Ruthless ropes swathe him, his body slump and defeated by his own climax. His ass burning and missing the fullness he enjoyed a few moments ago. McCree wants more. “Darlin’, fuck me.”

Hanzo shushes him, pets his hair, sparing lovely kisses and soft bites along his shoulders, his neck, the corner of his mouth. McCree turns about to find him, wanting those lips, finding them swollen and plump and ready to kiss some more, dipping his sinful tongue inside his mouth.

“Impatient, wanting more already,” Hanzo teases. “Do you want out of rope?”

“No, fuck me like this.” Once Hanzo unties him he’s scared of what his heart might reveal, and right now he wants to lie there and be filled again by him. His softened cock twitches at the thought, trapped on the pillow, while his clammy hands relax and yield to the ties. He never thought it would be like this, so easy to surrender, so pleasant to let him have his body, his mind, his soul, and his damn heart.

“Are you with me, Jesse?” Hanzo whispers, bringing him back from his reverie and nuzzling behind his ear.

“Yeah,” McCree gasps, a shy smile stretching his lips.

“Then relax while I get you hard again…” Hanzo whispers, chuckling softly while his hands soothe and caress McCree’s restrained arms. He straightens, standing on his knees between McCree’s sprawled legs. The cowboy is a sight for sore eyes, ass up by the pillow, arms relaxed at his back and secured to his torso, moving in unison with his breathing. Hanzo fondles his butt cheeks with greedy hands, spreads him open and smirks at the low grunt coming out of McCree.

Scooting down on the bed, Hanzo leans forward, hands squeezing the cheeks between his hands until he chokes a moan in a bite. McCree flinches, teeth once again ravishing his skin. This time Hanzo leaves his mark on his butt, indents and surely pink and red marks in the shape of his mouth.

“And ya’ said I got a bite,” McCree teases, loving the rough treatment and the soft kisses and flicks of the tongue that ease the love bites.

Hanzo hums, his thumbs outlining his hole and spreading him further. When his tongue darts at his ass McCree moans, and his mouth opens wide against the mattress. Long, leisurely laps glide between his cheeks and have him pushing back and sprawling for him, which encourages Hanzo to flick his tongue fast over him, dipping inside lewdly, just how he would do it, just how McCree told him he’d do it.

The taste of lube in his tongue doesn’t diminish his interest in making him a sore mess and Hanzo pushes a taut tongue inside, the pliant muscle giving up and allowing him in. He is so damn hot Hanzo moans at the thought of his cock inside him. “Do you like this?” Hanzo asks smugly, his tongue darting out in fast flicks.

“Don’t stop, please,” McCree whines, ass trying to push up to get more of that tongue and less of that warm breath puffing close into him.

Hanzo growls, fingers digging holes in his flesh while he opens him and eats him up in earnest, fast, and greedily, tongue pushing in and pulling out when McCree’s hole clenches around it. But Hanzo keeps going, licking, lapping and lavishing his ass, spit and lube dripping down his chin. He wants to fuck him, wants him hard again and ready to come once more around him. Short thrusts of tongue fuck him and McCree’s moans intensify, thighs flex, tense and lifting his ass impossibly up while Hanzo buries his face on it.

“Fuck me, please, Hanzo,” McCree moans.

“Oh, I will, cowboy.” He cleans his mouth with the back of his hand and nestles McCree’s balls in his hand, sliding under to find a hard cock there trapped by the pillow. A loud moan twitches the corner of his mouth upward when he strokes him. “Will you come again for me?”

“Yes, darlin’,” McCree says, head turning to a side to breathe fresh air, his ass cold and covered in saliva and lube.

Hanzo coats generously his length and moans at the hot hand fisting his throbbing erection, gathering himself to hold on for as long as he can. He scoots closer between McCree’s legs, his knees pushing the pillow underneath. The tip of his cock teases at the stretched hole, but Hanzo takes his sweet time, ignoring McCree’s begging, just pushing the tip, testing the tightness, never sliding the head in, letting him adjust and building up his arousal until he cannot take it anymore.

“You, damn tease,” McCree groans but the complaint dies in a strangled moan when Hanzo pushes the head of his cock inside him. It burns deliciously, how he stretches him just by remaining still inside him. McCree missed this, giving himself freely in the bed, a cock up his ass, a body behind him. Being the one receiving pleasure, his submission pleasing Hanzo, everything shrinks his heart.

Strong hands grip his waist, thumbs drawing circles at the ridges of his back. Hanzo pushes in another inch and draws back, the tightness is unbearable, the heat too much and he cannot wait to come inside him, his cock jerking at every movement. “You feel so good,” Hanzo gasps.

“More, darlin’,” McCree begs, his chest tightly wrapped and sensitive where the ropes brush against his skin, his arms relaxed but unable to use them, if he were fighting the ropes he’d be exhausted. The pillows keep him as comfortable as he can in this position.

Hanzo slides outside until only the very tip of his cock is inside him, and then he shoves himself in one long movement, watching his length disappear into McCree’s stretched ass. It takes the better of him not to come, remaining stock still while the cowboy relaxes and adjusts to his girth. McCree’s hunger makes him arch his ass and push into him, desperate for friction, for more, and moaning at the thick hardness opening him, but Hanzo keeps him in place with firm hands on his hips, risking a gentle gliding in and out.

“Ah, yes!” McCree whines. Since when is he such a whining mess? He wonders, the bliss of being full too much to his poor heart. But one thing he knows, he wants it bad, and he wants more of Hanzo. McCree wants to feel him in the morning, wrecked and thoroughly fucked by the yakuza he should’ve stayed away from.

Every thrust steals a moan, the lingering burn replaced by the sensation of being full, fucked, loved -he can only wish- at the closeness of the act itself that envelops his heart warm with wanton as firmly as the ropes around him hold him together.

“I wanted to fuck you since I saw you,” Hanzo moans. Slow lunges of his hips plunge his cock deep inside him only to drag out mercilessly. He throbs with impatience, stretching him, pliant and soft as he fucks him. McCree moans when he is heavenly full and wails when he leaves him awfully empty in a tempo that will take them both to the gates of hell and back.

“Well, I’m an easy cowboy, darlin’,” McCree teases, yielding to his rhythm because he cannot move, cannot fight it, cannot stand, tackle Hanzo into the bed on his back and ride him hard.

“I want you to fuck me like this too.” The statement steals a low growl from McCree. He wants that, craves it so badly his cock jerks and a spurt of pre-cum stains the pillow. “Hard, and long, with your body sweating over my back and that impossibly thick cock of yours deep inside me.”

“Yes, darlin’,” McCree whines, ragged breath warming up the damp sheets.

“But you are mine now.”

A growl echoes in the bedroom and a whole body shudder curls around his spine. Hanzo pulls at the pillow and his cock bounces in the air when his knees straighten to support his weight and Hanzo grasps demandingly the body harness with one hand while the other leaves crescent moon indents on his ass. There is nothing left of those slow onslaughts that reigned in the beginning, and McCree spreads his knees wide to support himself, his forehead on the mattress and his chest heaving against a pillow that prevents his back to bend in an awkward angle. Nothing matters and he endures the forceful thrusts of Hanzo at his back, his hips slapping against him, his cock shoved balls-deep inside him. McCree lets Hanzo fuck him however he wants, surrendering to the smoldering pleasure building up inside him, his balls tightening once more wanting to release whatever he has left.

The noise of fast, short, thrusts fill the room and gets mixed with his ragged breath, his sobs for more, Hanzo’s name in between, and with Hanzo’s hoarse grunts as he fucks him like he’s never been fucked before. His unmerciful cock sheathes hard and deep, rubs a soft spot inside him that turns him into a puddle and he cannot take it anymore, doesn’t know how long Hanzo has been fucking him but he yields, cries out his name once more while his cock twitches and a single white spurt wets the bedding.

Hanzo moans loudly, wraps a hand around him and milks him dry, he goes soft soon, spent, defeated, and unable to keep hard any longer. And he doesn’t move, he sinks his cock in him and endures the harsh clenching of his ass around him, relishes on it for as long as it last, and as soon as McCree relaxes and groans a loud exhale, Hanzo moves, both hands gripping his waist, desperation leading his fucking. Hanzo spends long, hot, and abundantly inside him. McCree moans into it, hot spurts filling his ass while Hanzo rocks into him, riding out his climax while a caring hand soothes the small of his back.

Hanzo withdraws faster than McCree would have wanted and, with lewdness glittering in his black blown pupils, he takes a moment to admire McCree’s abused hole oozing his spent. A daring thumb pushes inside a pearlescent trail and McCree writhes and moans. With endless gentleness, Hanzo helps him kneel on the bed once more, pulling one last time at the ropes around his chest.

“I will untie you now,” Hanzo whispers, clearly out of breath, his lips dragging along his neck, hands touching and soothing him. “Are you okay?”

“Is this heaven, darlin’?” McCree mumbles, eyes closed, Hanzo’s come dripping down his ass and down his inner thigh. He’d be embarrassed before someone else, but not with him, not with those hands full of tenderness skillfully letting loose his forearms and arms. Hanzo holds them for him, deft fingers massaging his forearms while he supports them on his underarms and leads them to the front. With endless care, he caresses the wrists, thumbs on the pulse point feeling the cowboy's strong beating. McCree relaxes his arms over his thighs when Hanzo releases him and glimpses the discarded red devils that held him together and now abandon him to his own, leaving pins and needles behind. But he’s not alone.

Their breaths heave in unison from a racing heart to a steady beating. McCree leans back on his chest and Hanzo shushes him. “I am here.” More kisses along his neck bring a dopey smile to his lips. Deft hands work blindly at his back to free his chest, and as soon as the ropes recede, he breathes in hard, free, as he’s never been able to before. McCree turns his head to a side, gasps, arms slack at both sides of his body.

“What is it? Any discomfort or numbness?”

“No, darlin’. Just a bit sore on my shoulders, but…”

“Tell me.” Hanzo waits, holds him from behind to keep him together, so McCree doesn’t miss the ropes. He knows how unfair can be to be wrapped so closely and then set free in a heartbeat and without warning. But McCree is not stiff in his arms, he is pliant and warm.

“Gimme some sugar,” McCree drawls and makes Hanzo chuckle.

“You are incorrigible…” The words die in the sweetest kiss he’ll ever give, meeting willing, swollen lips that said his name so many times today. “Jesse.”

“Yes, darlin?”

“Lie on your back while I run us a bath.”

McCree steals another peck and obeys, taking one of the pillows to rest his head on it while Hanzo slides the last of his rope from his body into a figure eight hank. McCree sighs and stretches, watching Hanzo work with hooded lids and a half-smile until he disappears in the bathroom and the noise of the water stream fills the background. He inspects the indents of the ropes in his skin, the marks on his chest and arms and smiles proudly at how he will never forget tonight.

Hanzo comes back, naked in all its glory even though his cock is soft. He nonchalantly climbs up the bed next to him and ghosts his fingers over McCree’s chest. “You were so beautiful in red,” Hanzo teases and steals a feeble chuckle from the cowboy. “How are you?”

“I’m good. _You_ were good,” McCree flirts.

“Let me do something for you, since you have been so good to me,” Hanzo says with a mischievous smile. “While the tub fills.”

“Whatever ya’ want, darlin’,” McCree says, narrowing his eyes while Hanzo kneels between his legs and handles him until he bends his knees and lifts his legs by pressing on the back of his thighs, exposing him. He notes a slight blush conquering his cheeks. “I ain’t even hard.”

Hanzo slides two fingers into his ass, gently, his cum and the remains of lube making it easy. He curls his fingertips up, fingers buried deep and looking for his prostate, brushing and putting pressure until McCree squirms and moans. “Uncomfortable?”

“Oh shit, damn,” McCree gasps, mouth agape, discomfort mixed with pleasure once more while he takes a sharp intake of hair to fill his lungs. “I don’t think I’ll come again, darlin’.”

Hanzo lets out a hearty chuckle, white cum leaking out of McCree’s half-hard cock while he massages his prostate, carefully, soft fingertips brushing rhythmically every few seconds. McCree moans, swaying in the verge of another orgasm but not quite crossing the line. It feels good, overwhelming, and his cock twitches as another spurt comes out of him.

He takes himself in hand, glancing down at Hanzo and that smug smile that drives him mad. McCree is aware of the blissed-out expression on his face, at the vulnerability and the lasciviousness of it all at every tremble washing through his limbs. “Got another one for me?” Hanzo asks, arching a questioning eyebrow.

“Maybe, darlin’,” McCree gasps, stroking himself lazily, his body tensing and his half-hard cock leaking pearlescent droplets down his knuckles.

“I am not in a hurry,” Hanzo whispers, skillful fingers twirling inside him, knowing what to pursue, how to steal another brief moment of pleasure from the cowboy.

McCree chokes on a gasp, his weary cock twitches twice as he comes and a jolt of pleasure flashes quickly through him, like a distant wave that goes away before lapping the shore despite his hand milking the last spurts out of him. “Hanzo,” McCree moans.

 

The warm water of the humungous bathtub surrounds them, and he lets his arms float over the surface, his back pressed against Hanzo’s chest and cradled by his strong arms. He inspects every detail of his ink while his arms massage and caress the length of them, from the fingertips until the very top of his shoulder. Soothing, comforting. His breathing is so relaxed he fears falling asleep.

“Ya’ sure I ain’t crushing ya’, sweetheart?” McCree teases, Hanzo’s hands traveling down once more, soaked in an oil that turns into a soft foam in contact with the water.

“Pretty sure,” Hanzo says, running his hands over the marks of ropes on his skin, fading and leaving a red shadow behind. He makes sure he memorizes them for when they disappear from his body. Hanzo kisses the love bite on the crook of his neck and McCree sighs, turning about.

Another kiss. Hanzo’s heart skips a beat every time their lips brush together and if the cowboy insists on claiming his mouth so frequently, he will lose years of life on them. Soft, feeble kisses, languid ones, tongues meeting and dancing, stroking gently, brave, shy, so in unison. It scares him to death. “You are a good kisser,” Hanzo whispers into his mouth.

“You got lips made for kissing,” McCree flirts. “I’m simply exploiting it.”

His hands, open like fans, move to trail and knead the expanse of his chest, the fuzz tickling and distracting him as they melt into another kiss. His muscles underneath flex, McCree is stronger than he looks, he has proven to be today under his ropes; so much more than worthy. “How is your soreness?”

“Darlin’, I’m as happy as a puppy with two peckers.”

Hanzo rolls his eyes, patting his back. “Let me massage your shoulders and neck.” McCree leans onward, sad to leave the safety of Hanzo’s warm chest but groaning loudly when his skilled hands massage his shoulders and erase every trace of knots and stress from the past five years.

“For a moment back there,” McCree mumbles, Hanzo’s fingers working his muscles unhurriedly, his body bracketed by his legs. “I thought I’d break once you untied me but…” Hanzo freezes for half a second, enough for the cowboy’s heart to stop at a halt. “But now I feel close to ya’.”

Hanzo winds his arms around his chest, pressing a cold cheek into the expanse of his back and sighs. The thumping of McCree’s heart races his own. “Darlin’,” McCree swallows. “I think I’m falling for you.”

“You know who I am,” Hanzo says, his arms clinging to him. He lifts his chin, resting it on his shoulder. “We cannot.”

“I know, sweetheart,” McCree breathes out the nerves. A truth out always had the power to ease his heart because that was the right thing to do. “That doesn’t mean I ain’t falling hard.”

“Let us have this,” Hanzo whispers, leans back on the tub and brings Jesse back into his chest once more, free to caress and touch the muscular body until he erases his own fingerprints. The little noises his hands make on the water plus their breathing echoing in the bathroom is the only thing between them. Hanzo wants to tell him that he is falling too, that they’re falling together, but maybe the words come out of the endorphins and post-orgasmic state and not true feelings. Even so, listening to them brings a warmth to his heart that he thought long forgotten. He should speak to Genji, the little brat knows him better than himself. Then a mischievous smile grows wide on his lips, knowing exactly how to lighten up the mood.

“How would you like if…” Hanzo says, his hands kneading McCree’s chest while he drags his lips on his temple. “… Genji joined us.” McCree stiffens. He snorts, amused.

“Are you proposing we have a threesome with your little brother?”

“Unappealing?” Hanzo teases and McCree chuckles.

“Can I be in the middle?”

“You sure care little for your own safety,” Hanzo drawls. “In the middle of two dragons knowing we will want a bite.”

“Darlin’,” McCree says, turning about and tilting his head back to fish for a kiss. “You’re getting hard just thinking ‘bout it.” Hanzo goes to his lips like a magnet, heady for them, smirking into the kiss while his fingers tease McCree’s perked nipples until they both chuckle into the other’s mouth and break the kiss, but the relentless cowboy keeps pecking his lips and chin, finally reclining back again in his chest. “How is it with you and your bub?”

“Unorthodox, I know.”

“I ain’t judging,” McCree says, placing his arms above Hanzo’s, still amazed at how soft his skin is, how mesmerizing is to follow with his fingers the dashing dragon on his arm.

“We are together. We have always been.” Hanzo closes his eyes and rests his head on the curvy edge of the tub. “Call it an open relationship,” he says with a smile.

“I like your bub,” McCree says. “He has the sweetest smile, he could charm you and then stab you in the back and you wouldn’t see it coming,” he wryly says.

“That is so Genji,” Hanzo laughs. McCree slumps on top of him, weariness winning the battle once he is relaxed and cared for. “Will you sleep in my bed?” Hanzo whispers, dreading the end of their bath together. Something he will indulge himself more in the future.

“On one condition,” McCree clicks his tongue and Hanzo hums, frowning. “What ‘bout ya’ and me having lunch tomorrow.”

“Who is asking for a date now?”

“This cowboy is.”

Another kiss, another one of those fateful kisses that drown him deeper and deeper into him, into his sinful tongue, his warming heart, the gentleness of his hands and Hanzo gasps, surrenders to what he feels and pours his soul into the kiss, into him. It is too damn late not to, and he doesn’t even have the strength to fight back, to get away, to run from him in the opposite direction. He cannot, so he yields, letting the cowboy in. Wound me, wreck me, once and a thousand times more. His control out of the window, so far away from his fingertips Hanzo sobs a farewell, a lump in his throat, heart fearing to come back to the loneliness that once reigned in it. A solitude that will hurt like a thousand needles when McCree leaves him. After all, what is he? A criminal destined to follow an inherited fate, undeserving of happiness, of love, of him…

“I’m here, darlin’,” McCree whispers when Hanzo trembles not sure if because of the lukewarm water or the kiss. “I ain’t going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pleasure to write and I already know it's going to be my favorite from this fic. (⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡  
> Thank you so much for reading along ! I really hope you liked it ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰ Beware, extreme fluff is coming !
> 
> PS: Also, thank you CaptainNeedsNoSleep for the tips on this one! They've been most helpful <3
> 
> Update: Check Cap's [tumblr](https://captainneedsnosleep.tumblr.com/) for more of her beautiful art!!


	6. Make hay while the sun shines

The strangest sense of nearness wakes Hanzo up this morning, eyes shut afraid to find it is just a dream, but the delicious rumbling at his back confirms the cowboy is sleeping. He stayed with him, cuddling against him all night and Hanzo melted into his arms safe and sound for what seemed like ages. He wonders where Genji is and smiles when he realizes the brat probably slept in his own room at finding them both there huddled comfortably together. Hanzo wouldn’t have minded at all waking up between Jesse and Genji, in fact, it brings a hopeful smirk of naughtiness that the day comes soon.

Hanzo interlaces his fingers with McCree’s hand, the one pressed lightly on his chest, and snuggles back into him, feeling his other arm right below his neck in a cage of limbs that fits perfectly around him, more even so than the ropes he sometimes indulges himself into. It scares him to death, to be so close to a man he trusts blindly when he shouldn’t, to a Blackwatch agent who will turn him in as soon as their deal is over. He has never been so reckless in his life and yet he cannot stop pursuing him, wanting him close, more, in his bed and out. Hanzo declares himself a lost cause and sighs, stretching covertly so he doesn’t disturb his sleep. Once he finds what he intends from the leader of Talon, he has to come clean with Jesse, offer Blackwatch a truce. Perhaps times are changing and cleaning the business assures Genji’s future and his own. He doubts they will accept, and a peace offering could easily turn against him in a heartbeat, condemning their livelihood and his father’s legacy for nothing.

“I can hear you thinking, darlin’,” McCree mumbles in a hoarse sleepy voice that twitches his lip upward. The cowboy unabashedly presses against him and Hanzo lets out a drowsy moan at the morning wood between them although what he really wants is to roll his eyes at the insatiable lust of McCree.

“It is too early,” Hanzo whispers. “Go back to sleep.”

“Yes, darlin’.” McCree breathes out warm in his nape and sends a shudder down his spine. “Ain’t ya’ working today?”

“I should,” Hanzo sighs.

“Day off. Lunch together,” McCree mumbles and Hanzo chuckles at his lack of eloquence at these early hours. But he should get out of bed and head to the Shimada building because tonight he has to meet with Akande again and taking precautions to be discreet gets harder every time. Blackwatch isn’t aware of his business acquaintance with Talon and vice versa. It is too soon to anticipate anything, and he’d rather consider both as enemies until he can figure out Talon weaknesses and further plans. Once he knows what Talon wants or needs from the Shimada-gumi and Hanamura, then he would consider where his loyalty lays. He got too invested with the cowboy for reasons that have nothing to do with Blackwatch or Talon. He’s been naïve believing he could handle a liaison and nothing more.

The first time he laid eyes on McCree Hanzo knew he wanted more, watching him tied up to a chair sporting an unalloyed nonchalance and a wolfish grin that churned his stomach. Genji didn’t help, with tales about _the cowboy_ and how charming he was. He suspected then his little brother had a crush on McCree; an itch he wanted to scratch. And he intended to solve the matter that night, but then those eyes, how he begged for it, how he surrendered not because he forced him to but because he wanted to. Hanzo would have never gotten so far on a man held prisoner and tied up if not for those pleading eyes that ignored the danger and embraced it. Hanzo wanted a temporary alliance with Blackwatch and got a juicy toy in the deal. Or so he thought. It clearly backfired. It got out of hand too soon, unexpectedly, when he fell for him. He should have stopped this the first time McCree went to his office bringing Gabriel Reyes’ response, but the temptation was too much and he was, once again, naïve. Hanzo isn’t sleeping anymore and his mind is a mile an hour, so he takes advantage of the cowboy who seems to have fallen asleep again and straightens.

His feet don’t touch the rug because McCree throws an arm around his waist and tackles him on the bed from behind, nuzzling at his neck and breathing his words hot on his skin. “Ya’ ain’t leaving the bed, sweetheart.” The raspy voice of the cowboy clenches his stomach and Hanzo uselessly fights the strong arm surrounding him. Not that he wants to leave the bed now.

“Insatiable,” he chastises him.

McCree chuckles at his back, sneaking a demanding thigh between his legs and pressing his naked body against him. Hanzo notes the growing hardness on his backside and tries to turn around, but the cowboy has a good grip on him, mouth open, nibbling at his earlobe. He lets out a hearty moan. “I’ll never have enough of you, darlin’,” McCree whispers, his body rocking and caressing the length of his own. When Hanzo’s surrender is obvious, he maps his way down his chest and into the half-hard cock between Hanzo’s legs. McCree moves his thigh while he wraps a hand around him, his erection taking form and molding his hand. He runs a thumb up and down a side, outlining the beautiful cock, teasing the sensitive underside with his knuckles. Hanzo removes the sheets in a single movement, leaving them exposed in the middle of his bed. “Is it getting hot in here?” McCree jests and gets a groan as a reward.

McCree has never been the one to let his lovers take over his pleasure exclusively, he wants to touch, learn about them, and drive them mad. The cowboy wants to be the reason they scream. Hanzo doesn’t let him, so now, now he is boldly taking what he wants and miraculously, Hanzo is allowing him free reign until his hand wraps around his own. “Morning sex, cowboy?” he says, shallow breath betraying the firm tone of his words.

“I’m an all times sex kind of guy.” His response is moving McCree’s hand with his own, at the rhythm he wants, controlling and leading the situation. The cowboy chuckles softly. “Show me how ya’ like it.”

Hanzo closes his eyes, the morning light still too weak to seep through his bedroom windows, but a half-smile shows up on his face at the sudden illusion of control the cowboy grants him. He moves his hand at a leisurely pace, squeezing at the hilt, up loosely on his shaft until he fists the head and goes down again. Hanzo likes to build up his pleasure with long strokes, caresses that soon elicit a gentle glide on his body. McCree’s other hand sneaks lower underneath his neck until he cups his pec and kneads it shamelessly. A moan escapes his lungs. The cowboy traps his nipple between the thumb and forefinger, rolling it into them. “Do it,” Hanzo whispers. It’s been a long time since he’s given himself up like this and feels good.

McCree pinches his perked nip, his teeth busy with Hanzo’s earlobe, his hand firm but following the pace he sets. Hanzo is a beautiful creature dictating his pleasure, but he is even more enthralling being the subject of his ministrations, writhing and responding to his mouth and his hands. McCree’s cock his hard and smearing pre-cum on Hanzo’s back, and every insufficient touch curls his spine in sheer pleasure. “I sure like having my way with ya’, honey’.”

Hanzo arches his back, his ass rubbing against his erection, as a spurt of pre-cum leaks from his cock. He releases McCree’s hand, leaving the task to him while he leads a hand behind to grip McCree’s ass. Meanwhile, the cowboy peppers kisses along his neck and shoulders, his hand following the same movement as before, not faster, not deeper, just perfect. Hanzo knows he won’t come like this but he intends to push them both to a desperate state before indulging into this sweaty, morning sex that he hasn’t had since the early days with Genji. If he’s going to skip work, he better does it right.

“I know you’re gonna give me blue balls,” McCree groans, biting gently at his neck.

“You are so impatient, cowboy,” Hanzo chides him. “Learn to love the way not the end,” Hanzo moans at the unexpected harsh clenching of teeth around his flesh. McCree wants to drive him mad as he does with him, wants Hanzo out of control again as their first time together in this bed when he came all over him or last night when he fucked him fast and hard and wrecked him.

Another low moan from Hanzo suggests he has the upper hand. “Do you wanna fuck me again? I bet I’m still loose from last night, darlin’.” Hanzo groans loudly and a wolfish grin grows wide on McCree’s lips.

“You are a menace,” Hanzo gasps, his fingers digging holes on McCree’s ass and suddenly wishing that hand would speed up his movements. “You will be sore all day.”

“Good,” McCree whispers. “I wanna feel ya’ tonight when I’m alone in my bed.”

“Will that turn you on?” Hanzo teases. “To know that I fucked you through and through and that you cannot touch yourself until -McCree squeezes his cock and Hanzo’s breath hitches- until we see each other again?”

“Yes, darlin’,” McCree grunts. “You said I wouldn’t leave your bed until you were done with me.” A pause gives the illusion that they have stopped time that nothing matters outside this room. “Are ya’ done with me, sweetheart?”

“No.”

Hanzo curses his weakness, how he cannot resist that man. Years with Genji made him think he excelled at resisting temptation, that he had learned to overcome his most basic instincts, but the cowboy behind him, breathing hot sex in his neck and holding his cock as though he was holding onto life proves him otherwise. McCree turns him into a mess, a needy mess that wants to fuck and cum endlessly into that heavenly tight hole that sucks him perfectly. He had a taste last night. He wants more, and, at this moment, Hanzo believes he will never in his life get tired of him. “How do you want me to take you?” His raspy voice enlightens his desire.

McCree stills. His fantasies drift from one thing to another. How does he want him? Anyway, it doesn’t matter as long as it’s a hard and a good fuck. He has not enough blood in his brain to think straight. Thoughts of Hanzo on top of him invade his mind, taking his cock into that yakuza ass while he bounces and bounces on his lap; he also wants Hanzo behind, like last night, he wants him at his back pounding demandingly and pinning him to the mattress. That’s what he doesn’t get from most lovers, always expecting him to lead the way, to be the one providing, the one fucking, the one on top. Right now, he wants to give up control to him and get thoroughly fucked once more.

Mumbling a curse under his nose, McCree releases Hanzo and lies on his stomach, legs spread wide while he hugs the pillow. Hanzo turns around swiftly, eagerly, and a mischievous smile paints his lips at the enrapturing scene before him. He wished there was more light to revel in the soft blush he knows tints the cowboy’s cheeks.

“Come on, darlin’. Don’t make me beg.”

Hanzo leans forward and laps his cheek, warm and hot from embarrassment, leaving it cooling into the room. McCree moans, shifting more comfortably, knowing he will get what he wants. A thump from a drawer, a click from a stopper and Hanzo is kneeling behind him between his sprawled legs, a warm palm fondling his butt cheek.

“You begging is something fierce, cowboy,” Hanzo says, his voice hoarse. He licks his lips while warmed-up fingers glide gently up and down McCree’s ass, making him flinch and checking he is indeed soft and pliant just for him. He thrusts them in, there is no hurry except for the one throbbing in his cock.

“Oh! Yes,” McCree moans, the pillow muffling his groans at the intrusion.

“I like you like this, Jesse,” Hanzo says, fingers skillfully stretching him so when he slides his cock inside, the only thing that the cowboy will feel is the wonderful sensation of being filled by him.

“Fuck me darlin’, please,” McCree says, turning his head to a side and getting a glimpse of those unmerciful eyes that even in the darkness glitter with lust. He bends a knee, pushes his ass up and wrinkles the bedding into an impatient fist.

“You cannot wait to get fucked,” Hanzo says, fingers pushing in and pulling out, the lube making wet noises that get mixed with McCree’s moans and slurred curses. To be completely fair, Hanzo cannot wait to slide home. He withdraws his fingers, spreads his cheeks to watch McCree’s abused ass flutter and revels in the grunt of frustration from the cowboy. “Ask for it again,” Hanzo growls.

“Hanzo, please,” he mumbles, his cock leaking his arousal into the bedding. He positions his cock, coated in lube, right at his entrance and McCree sobs a moan but Hanzo doesn’t move, he cleans his hand on the sheets and leans forward. He fits perfectly between his legs, covering McCree completely with his warm body, a leg straightened and the other bent to mold the cowboy’s. The head of his cock tugs at his ass but doesn’t breach in. “I want you,” McCree says. Hanzo slides his cock between his butt cheeks as though he was finding his way in but McCree knows he is teasing, his frustration growing wider than his arousal when a low chuckle reverberates behind him.

“Beg,” Hanzo commands, the mischievous smile tainting the firmness of his words. His whole body bursts in impatience, cock throbbing and aching to sheathe inside the cowboy.

“Please, darlin’,” McCree says, his body surrendering to his eagerness, lifting his ass at him trying to find his cock.

Hanzo rocks gently into him, his cock sliding in an inch. McCree moans loudly, Hanzo’s body pressed against his back, his heat caressing his skin, his lips suddenly at his nape to land the most tender kiss at the most unexpected time. “Such a good cowboy,” Hanzo praises.

“Please, fuck me real good,” McCree gasps, hoping his voice reveals how much he wants this, how much he needs him. “Like last night, please.”

“I enjoyed greatly our night together,” Hanzo says, nibbling at his earlobe. “You were so willing and pliant in my ropes.”

“Darlin’,” McCree sobs, Hanzo's cock stock still, stretching him but not filling him yet. “Please, fuck me.” The cowboy’s sincerity destroys his resolve and Hanzo growls.

In a slow glide of his hips, Hanzo sinks himself in his heat, cursing in Japanese, a forearm on the mattress, while his other hand threads on McCree’s hair. He has the cowboy pinned to the bed, buried in him by the hilt and McCree lifts his ass, pushes into him as though he could get more, a side of his face on the pillow and the other being pampered by Hanzo’s kisses. “I would beg for you too,” Hanzo says in a sultry whisper, waiting for McCree to adjust to him. The cowboy moans. “For your cock inside me.”

“You just gotta ask, darlin’,” McCree teases, full of him, the lingering burn fading around the hard cock inside him.

“Whenever I believe I am in control…” Hanzo says, strokes again his cheek with a wet tongue, gathering the salty sweat of McCree. “… you take it all away just by kneeling in my bed.” He finishes with a bite on his earlobe and a few tentative thrusts in and out of him that elicit a whine from McCree. This position is so intimate, so close, his whole body swathed by Hanzo, his hard cock shoved deep inside him, his breath on his nape, a hand tugging at his hair, lips dragging over his cheek. It would be overwhelming but not with Hanzo because he wants all that and more.

“I’ve never trusted someone in bed more than you,” McCree confesses and Hanzo looks for his hand and interlaces their fingers together. The cowboy kisses the back of his hand with swollen lips, knowing the words got to him.

“Still a fool,” Hanzo groans, every word is a merciless thrust that shoves him balls-deep into McCree.

“Yes,” McCree moans, forehead on the pillow, his warm breath unbearable but he knows he won’t last.

“What if I do not let you come?” Hanzo threatens, short thrusts pushing him onward, that thick cock pounding into him in a perfect sway of hips from Hanzo. He arches his back from sheer pleasure, and the new angle leaves his prostate vulnerable. His cock brushes the soft bedding in the same tempo while Hanzo pins him there and keeps his unruled onslaughts in and out of him. “What if I fuck you, come inside you, and leave you just like this?”

McCree sobs, frustrated at how real the possibility is, knowing Hanzo and his never-ending crave for control, for owning him and his pleasure. “I can take it,” McCree says, panting. “Come inside me. I won’t… -he swallows-… come.”

Hanzo grunts, fucking him in earnest and wondering how good would be to see his flustered face and watery eyes glazing from frustration and lust, just like Genji when they play hard; his abused ass oozing his spent and eager for more. But there is something more tempting than prolonging McCree’s agony and that is him climaxing around him, his hole clenching and swallowing his cock. “You have been so good to me, Jesse,” Hanzo whispers in a charming tune that makes McCree whimper. “Will you come for me now?”

“Just for you, darlin’,” McCree moans, relief washing through him like a wave of unbridled pleasure being held until now.

“Yes, you will because it belongs to me,” Hanzo whispers, heart racing, balls impossibly tight at how short he’s been fucking him and yet his stomach clenches, his cock jerks and he curses again. His body swathes McCree, the sheer coat of sweat mingling with his own, their hands steepled together, his lips brushing his temple.

Hanzo owns you when he fucks you and McCree cries out the most luscious moans when he covers the length of his body with his lean weight. He pounds into him slow and deep, pulling out and plunging in just enough to crush him into the mattress, every thrust comes with a growl, with a puff of warm breath of his cheek.

“Hanzo,” McCree moans, pushing his ass back, allowing him access while he gets fucked exactly how he wants, how he needs.

“Touch yourself and come around me, Jesse,” Hanzo says with urgency, releasing McCree’s hand and supporting his arm on the mattress for better leverage. McCree obeys, sneaks a hand underneath his lifted hips and wraps it around his oozing cock. It sends a surge of pleasure and instinct makes him thrust into his hand, fucking himself with Hanzo’s cock. “Stay still,” Hanzo groans and McCree whimpers, moving his wrist instead.

“Darlin’, I can’t…”

“Come for me,” he slurs between reason and lust. Hanzo buries himself into him, forceful onslaughts frantic and harsh, hips slamming greedily pursuing only one thing, holding at the brink of orgasm with years of practice. “Jesse,” Hanzo moans, his tongue out to flick on the shell of his ear and down until he clenches his teeth around his neck. That’s it for him, the gesture of ownership pushes him over the edge and Hanzo spills himself thoroughly and hot inside the cowboy’s ass, fucking him deep until in the middle of his orgasm McCree cries out, ass fluttering, knuckles dripping cum and brushing against the bedding.

They are two panting messes slumping into the mattress, moaning and sharing their ragged breaths. Hanzo fucking him in a lazy rocking, riding out his climax and filling him to the brim. McCree falls flat on the bed on top of his own mess and Hanzo, still inside him and refusing to leave lies on his back, his softened cock slowly being pushed outside, followed by a trail of come. He spares kisses along McCree’s shoulders, laps the indents of his teeth on his neck and inhales the essence of love, sweat, and sex that impregnates them both.

“Turn around,” Hanzo says, hovering over him while McCree obeys with a grunt and lies on his back. With a dopey smile, he receives Hanzo’s lips with urgency, latching on them for dear life because they soothe the soreness on his ass and his aching heart at those brief shared moments that he knows are precious and just for them.

McCree wraps arms and legs around him and Hanzo chuckles, trapped in his arms, safe and sated because sex with him is so different from anything he’s had before. Hanzo exhales deeply. Only with Genji he feels like this and he loves his brother more than anything in his life. It is scary to jump into something like this with him, but those whiskey-colored eyes brighten up his days and create the illusion that everything is fine, everything feels right. If he weren’t Hanzo Shimada, crimelord and assassin, and McCree weren’t a Blackwatch agent sent to spy on him. Jesse said he has fallen for him… and the dragons know Hanzo has fallen for him too.

“A penny for your thoughts,” McCree mumbles against his mouth.

“It’s just… what you said yesterday,” Hanzo gasps. “I…”

“That I’m falling for you?” McCree interrupts and Hanzo nods.

“I…” Hanzo’s heart leaps and then thumps angrily at his weakness. He should tell him he’s in love, that he’s working to give Blackwatch a great deal against Talon, that he never thought… never imagined he would fall for him this hard, this deep, but the words die in his throat, fear conquers his brain at what a huge mistake would that be. They cannot, he said it clear and loud; to go back on his words now would be a nuisance.

“Good morning,” Genji says from the threshold of the bedroom, wearing his boxers, arms folded over his chest, smug smile, and amused eyebrows. Hanzo rolls his eyes until he sees starts, thanking him inwardly for the timely interruption and cursing his treacherous heart.

“’Morning, sweet pie,” McCree says, already missing Hanzo’s weight over him.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” Hanzo chides him, still flustered by their lovemaking, leaning on the headboard as he distractedly takes his phone from the nightstand and pretends he wasn’t about to confess his love for the cowboy merely seconds ago.

“You guys were being too loud too early in the morning,” Genji purses his lips. “And I wanted a sneak peek.” The little brat scoots to the bed and jumps on top of a fully naked Hanzo -as he does the days they don’t sleep together-. His brother receives him with a grunt and a feeble peck on the lips while McCree chuckles. “Can I have a bite of the cowboy?” Genji teases.

“No,” Hanzo snorts, prodding Genji’s side to erase the pouting grimace on his face. But Genji huffs and falls for his lips again, letting his tongue out and smiling when the taste of the cowboy is so evident on his mouth. McCree swallows. If he hadn’t already come he’d be hard at the display. The first time he witnessed the Shimada brothers ravishing each other’s mouths his stomach clenched and a cold sweat ran down his spine. Now it is so enthralling he considers Hanzo’s offer last night into a whole new light and a world full of possibilities.

“Are you having fun, Jesse?” Genji teases, tongue darting out to lick his brother’s smirking lips. McCree stares, mouth agape until the corner of his lips twitch upward and he chuckles, blushing and shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “Aren’t you working today, anija?”

“Why is everybody so surprised that I take a day off?” Hanzo scoffs.

“Because you haven’t in forever,” Genji snorts. Hanzo rolls his eyes, pats him on the ass and gets out of bed in a beautiful nonchalance of nakedness that has them both Genji and McCree sighing in awe while Hanzo disappears into the bathroom. The brat turns to look at McCree, his mussed hair, dopey smile still glancing at the void and -Genji arches a questioning eyebrow- a sticky mess on his stomach that the sheets haven’t completely cleaned. “You should join him.”

McCree nudges Genji and snuggles between the ruined bedding, ignoring the brat. “I don’t wanna tempt my luck.”

“How did you persuade him to stay home today?” Genji says, lying next to him and playing with the strands of hair stuck on his temple.

“I asked for a date,” McCree says with a wolfish grin stretching his lips. “And I begged a lot.”

It makes Genji giggle while he lies more comfortably on Hanzo’s side of the bed, staring at him with sleepy eyes. “You should’ve stayed away from us,” Genji teases, biting his bottom lip to prevent the snickering.

“And miss all the fun?” McCree wiggles his eyebrows, the morning activities clear on his smile, on the glittering of his eyes, the relaxed stance of his body and the sudden curl of happiness in his stomach.

Hanzo gets out of the shower only to find Genji and McCree snickering and talking in bed and he narrows his eyes, knowing his brother is always up to some mischief. He ends up taking the day off, at least to treat McCree with a sumptuous lunch at one of his favorite restaurants. Genji joins them, and it is by far the most pleasant day Hanzo has had since their mother died. Memories overwhelm him, and he knows Genji feels the same if the sweet, sad smile on his lips is any indication. The decline of the Shimada empire started there, their father more occupied and involved in the business and their training but forgetting the needs of two sons of their age. It was then when they grew closer, intimate, and fell in love with each other in a grueling world that ripped them apart. Those were tough years they had to overcome on their own, especially after Sojiro died and Hanzo found a whole new world over his shoulders. They couldn’t run away as Genji wanted, Hanzo’s sense of honor wouldn’t allow him to betray the last promise he made to his father. Fatefully trapped in a gilded cage, one that Hanzo works very hard to free themselves from, cleaning the businesses he can, not getting involved with Talon, changing old rules and adapting them into a new world.

But McCree makes them forget the brief grief they have seemed to drown into. His heart-warming jokes, the way he leans to whisper in his ear wicked thoughts of them about last night, making him blush and burst into laughter at his debauchery. Hanzo’s heart shrinks at the mere thought of never seeing him again, at the events turning them against each other.

The improvised lunch ends when McCree gets a phone call from Gabriel and Blackwatch requires his presence at the headquarters. Before leaving, the cowboy insists this doesn’t count as a date since they weren’t alone and dates don’t end by ill-timed calls from work. Hanzo chuckles, nodding at his insistence and trying to get in the car when a firm hand grasps his elbow. Turning about, Hanzo finds a grin, and a gaze determined to break his world, his heart, and every piece of common sense left in him. The kiss is sweet, soft enough to draw a smile on his lips, deep enough to steal a moan. A good kisser, indeed. McCree always leaves him wanting more with a trudging heart and a shallow breath.

“Cute,” Genji says when Hanzo slumps on the backseat of the car with a smile he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“He is sappy.”

“He’s in love with you,” Genji says, arching an eyebrow at him.

“It is the sex,” Hanzo dismisses the words. “He mistakes the pleasure with romantic feelings but McCree will get tired of it eventually and everything will come back to normal, hopefully without Talon in my domains.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself, anija?” Genji plays with the wrinkle his jeans make near his knee, glancing at him.

Hanzo furrows his eyebrows, staring into those black voids, twins of his own trying uselessly to hide how he feels. He could never fool Genji. “I am trying to protect us both as I always do.”

“That’s not why you fuck him anymore.” If he lets Hanzo make up excuses, his brother will shut down and push the cowboy away. And Genji wouldn’t let that happen.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Hanzo huffs.

“Nothing,” Genji chuckles softly. “I already know, but I want you to be happy. I like Jesse too, at first I thought you’d enjoy the affair and that we could have fun with him, but -a flick of tongue wets his lips- perhaps…”

“That is the last thing in my mind,” Hanzo lies. “Our lives are complicated enough as they are, besides, I need to see Akande again.” He cocks his head to look at the displease of his little brother’s features at the mention of the leader of Talon. At first, the idea of approaching him had been Genji’s, but Hanzo twisted it, refusing to expose his brother to such a danger. One thing was to lure the cowboy with promises of a one-night stand and another was to play with a powerful man whose main interest is to exploit the Shimada-gumi.

“Be careful with Doomfist,” Genji sighs. “I’ve been researching about him and I don’t like what I’ve found.”

“He should be careful with me,” Hanzo says, a smug smile growing wide on his lips at the knowledge he has Akande eating from his hand, or at least holding something he wants against him, even if it’s himself and his empire.

“I’m serious, anija,” Genji says, scooting closer on the seat to press their lips together. “Akande is dangerous, and he has an unwholesome obsession with you. I’m worried.”

“You tell me nothing I don’t already know, Genji,” Hanzo says, cupping his face with a caring hand and kissing him again, his lips soothing momentarily his troubled mind. He understands his brother’s uneasiness. Akande was born in a reputed family, he got involved in his youth in competitive martial arts, gaining quickly fame and tournaments all over the world, but he lost his right arm in the omnic crisis and, though his prosthetic is impressive having in mind his family owns a prosthetic-technology company, his fighting career was over at its peak.

With his bright future down the drain, Akinjide Adeyemi, the former Doomfist at the time, offered him a suitable opportunity as a mercenary. Akande ended up working for Talon and climbing the ranks fast. That brutal world suited him all too well, the ruthlessness of the war left a dent in him and a quest for power conquered the man. The battle went on for Akande, so much that he killed his own teacher a year ago and became the former leader of Talon’s boardroom, leading the organization into profitable times of endless growth among the world. His own motives are unknown but surely dark and suitable for the company.

“Just be careful, will you?” Genji asks, unable to hide the frown between his eyebrows. “There’s been an unusual movement within Talon lately and…” Genji shuts his mouth as though a mischief had come out of it, but it is too late, Hanzo has noticed.

“Have you been in contact with Mrs. Colomar?” Hanzo chides him. A question that the guiltiness in Genji’s eyes answers on its own. Hanzo lets out a frustrated sigh. He doesn’t like when his little brother gets his hands dirty with old contacts from the past, especially if it could backfire, and particularly with a hacker who only answers to herself and her own interests involved in the matter.

“Hanzo…” Genji gasps, an unspoken apology. They needn’t those between them. “I wanted to find out everything about him to protect you.” His sweet smile melts Hanzo’s heart, and he pulls his little brother into a hug, awkward by the lack of room on the car, but heartwarming and reassuring as always.

“If Mrs. Colomar has provided information about Akande and Talon, it would be wise to offer that to our former Blackwatch friends, if you agree,” Hanzo suggests, a half-smile pulling the corner of his lip upward.

“We’ve chosen a side, apparently,” Genji teases, nuzzling at his neck and smiling when he spots the cowboy’s smell on Hanzo. He thought he’d be jealous, but he is tremendously aroused by Hanzo’s possessiveness. His brother hasn’t even let him touch the cowboy since the first night. If he is being covetous because of him or Jesse that’s a question he doesn’t want an answer to.

“A suitable alliance,” Hanzo says. “Talon’s aims do not coincide with my own.”

“They don’t have hot cowboys on their ranks that’s for sure…” Genji teases and Hanzo notices the wryness in his words. Hanzo has monopolized McCree, partly to keep it all to himself and partly to annoy Genji, but his little brother has shown a restraint uncharacteristic on him. He knew this situation wouldn’t last forever, they share everything, and it’s about time they both share the bed with McCree.

“It may please you to know that I talked to McCree last night,” Hanzo says, Genji’s eyes sparkling in curiosity while a naughty hand plays with Hanzo’s tie, caressing the length of it as he speaks.

“And…?” Genji bites his bottom lip, fingers leaving the safety of the tie and drumming playfully over the buckle of his belt.

“He was very excited when I proposed a _ménage à trois_ ,” Hanzo says with a sly smile. Genji straddles him, throwing his arms over his shoulders. There is no trace any more of Genji’s uneasiness, only an awakening lust. Hanzo takes his mouth, demanding and eager, trying to enjoy the ride to the Shimada building. His little brother moans in his arms, melts at the nibbling on his lips, the leisurely strokes of his tongue and Hanzo’s hand kneading his ass over stretchy jeans. He will never have enough of him, it is different from McCree in so many levels, sheer unconditional love that they translate into kisses, caresses and a physical contact they crave from each other every day. Genji suddenly stops, takes a sharp intake of air and presses both hands on Hanzo’s chests to prevent his brother to keep lavishing more kisses on his swollen lips.

“Will you get jealous when he fucks me?” Genji asks with a devilish grin.

Hanzo growls, hands squeezing his ass. “You are mine and only mine, Genji,” he whispers, biting his lower lip while Genji whimpers and caresses with def fingers the back of his nape. “Do not forget that.” His possessiveness thrills Genji, turns him into a puddle every single time, a little horny mess, needy for his brother.

“Anija…” Genji pouts, rocking his hips impatiently against him.

“You are going to be the death of me,” Hanzo whispers, mingling their mouths together once more. He has no intention to sate his little brother’s lust now, not even tonight. “And you will wait for the cowboy.” Genji huffs, annoyed, leaving his lap with pursing lips and a hard bulge trapped in his jeans. Hanzo caresses his cheek with his knuckles, smiling at his frustration. “You will never change…” Genji sticks his tongue out in a mockery while Hanzo’s hearty laugh fills the car.

 

The lights of Hanamura trace the most ravishing pattern along the skyline and make Hanzo sigh, standing in the middle of his office, the Chesterfield that now reminds him of Jesse in front of him. He wished to be with him instead of waiting for Mr. Ogundimu. The man had insisted on meeting again adducing business, what seems more like an ultimatum to Hanzo who will have to play his cards smartly or officially pick a side. If Blackwatch were to find out about these reunions, the deal would be over, their safety compromised, and the Shimada-gumi forced to work with Talon or to be swallowed by a war between two giants. Akande would take what he needs and then destroy the rest.

What most people don’t know is that Sojiro left a mess behind. Weakened alliances, old acquaintances that turned into enemies after his death. Hanzo dealt with it, the Elder’s support a pillar that ensured his position as heir and now former ringleader, but at what price? Recent events made the board members suspicious, oblivious to Hanzo’s negotiations with Blackwatch but deeming Talon as a strong ally instead of a powerful enemy threatening everything they have.

Hanzo is so tired of it all, the conspiracies, the illegal businesses, weapons, drugs, everything is a burden he never asked for. At the time, he thought this would be a dream life, that he and Genji would build an empire bigger than his father’s. How distorted the vision was. Hanzo sighs again, only distracted by the faint chime of his phone inside his pocket. He takes it out and his gloomy mood fades away. _Heading home,_ _darlin_ _’, with a boner thanks to you…_ A sweet smile menaces the bluntness of his features. He wants to answer, he really does but everything is so complicated and at the same time so easy. Once he sorts things with Akande… the noise of his office door opening wide startles him.

“Good night, Akande,” Hanzo says with a sly smile, the façade comes back on as fast as he keeps his phone into his pocket and turns around.

“Hanzo.” Akande prowls his way to him. “Nice office.”

“Hm.”

“I’m glad you answered my call,” Akande says, sitting on the Chesterfield while Hanzo joins him on the opposite side. Something feral stirs in him seeing the leader of Talon seated where Jesse does, with that smug grin of satisfaction, looking at him as though he was a piece of cake he is about to devour. Nothing farthest from reality. “I hope this means you have reconsidered your options wisely.” The corner of Hanzo’s mouth lifts in a half-smile.

Akande’s phone rings and the leader of Talon loses his smile, frowning at the number and growling menacingly as he picks up the call. “One moment,” Akande says, standing and leaving the office abruptly, closing the door behind him. Hanzo furrows his eyebrows, standing and silently approaching his desk. He presses a button on the comms and now he can listen to what is happening outside his office as long as Akande is near his secretary’s desk. Akande is pacing along the threshold, making it hard to discern his words. _I don’t care if he’s sneaky, follow him and find what connection he has with… yes_ . Hanzo frowns, his heart thumping. _Don’t lose him again or you will lose your head_ . A pause. His heart leaps at the thought of Genji being watched. _Yes. Send everything_ _to me_ _and I’ll see to it as soon as I can_ . The conversation is over, Hanzo needs to sit on the couch fast. _I need it_.

When the door slams open Hanzo is comfortably reclined on the couch, glancing up at him with a naïve smile. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” Akande chuckles. “I can handle everything from the palm of my hand.” He smiles and keeps his phone in the inner pocket of his jacket. Left side. “Where were we?” The broad man sits again next to him. This time closer; seems like he is determined to woo him.

“I wanted to see you,” Hanzo flirts, his voice low and his eyes narrowing also determined to get what he wants and ends this farce. “I cannot stop thinking about the other night.”

“I knew you wanted a piece of me,” Akande boldly says. His smile back, his chest heaving.

“How not to?” Hanzo purrs, standing and ambling toward his desk, glancing back over his shoulder only to catch the man checking the length of his body intently.

“I’m not stupid, Hanzo,” Akande grunts and Hanzo cannot read if he is pleased with the display or angry at not having him yet. “If you need someone to warm up your bed…”

Hanzo chuckles, feigning interest and leaning over the edge, hands gripping the wood to keep himself steady and focused. “I do not know if you can please my needs.” Akande arches an eyebrow at the statement and stands, covering the distance separating them in a slow sway until he is towering over him. The man is big, it would be hard to fight him in close combat, Hanzo won’t risk his chances on that.

“Try me,” Akande groans, his ego obviously hurt.

“I want you under my mercy,” Hanzo purrs. “I want to tie you up while I fuck myself on you.”

The low rumble on Akande’s chest is the better indicator that Hanzo has just said what lurks Akande’s mind for the past weeks. “Why would I trust you?” He snarls, pressing his body demandingly over Hanzo’s and sliding a thigh between his legs. Hanzo fakes a moan.

“Why would you not?” Hanzo whispers, a hand sliding between his shirt and jacket, fondling the impressive muscular body underneath, but being more excited about the phone he feels on the back of his hand. He wished he was good enough to steal it, but that was never his expertise. “I know you want this if I can read the signs well enough.”

“When and where?” Hanzo has to suppress a snort at how fast that was, he expected resistance, a negotiation perhaps, but not a full agreement upon any conversation.

“I will send word to you,” Hanzo says, biting his lip and glancing up at those dark eyes. “I regret deeply not having taken your offer for _a drink_ our last dinner.”

Akande chuckles, leading a firm hand around his waist and pressing at the small of his back. “I had a taste of you and I want more,” he murmurs against his mouth. Hanzo yields and drags his lips over him as any wanting lover would but keeps his eyes wide open, alert.

“You will have me on a silver lining for as long as you want,” Hanzo whispers in a raspy sensual voice. “And we can seal the deal.”

Warm big lips fall over his own, taking eagerly a kiss from him. Hanzo smiles until Akande breaks the kiss. “Don’t play with me, Hanzo,” he threatens before thrusting his tongue deep into a willing mouth that pretends to kiss back but to any expert lover would feel meaningless and lacking passion. Seems to be enough for him.

Or not, because Akande slides a hand at his back, pulling at his belt uncomfortably and grasping his ass greedily. “Not here,” Hanzo mumbles but pushes into him as though he hadn’t played this game before.

Akande backs off a little, fondling his way out of Hanzo’s trousers. “It’ll take more than that to stop me once you’re mine,” he says with a dark grin.

“I like the anticipation,” Hanzo says, nibbling at his lower lip. “Holding back until we meet again and then -Hanzo gasps, both hands kneading Akande’s muscular torso- there will be nothing between us.”

A low growl rumbles against him, but Akande seems pleased nonetheless, backing off and fixing his jacket, patting carefully to ensure his phone is still there. Hanzo’s eyes narrow slightly at the gesture but then he straightens, clears his throat and runs a thumb over his lips. “Before I go,” Akande says. “I’ll give you something for you to trust me.” The pause intrigues Hanzo, staring at those ruthless eyes that claim to know more than him and it sends a frisson through his body. “Blackwatch is watching you. Someone called Jesse McCree is the agent assigned to spy on you and your brother.”

Hanzo arches an eyebrow and walks with Akande toward the door. “I was aware,” he simply says, but his throat dries out and he grits his teeth. It wasn’t Genji who they were after. It was Jesse, and it unsettles his heart just the same.

“My people are trying to find him. I could rid you of him as a personal favor,” Akande turns about to look at Hanzo but finds the same impenetrable façade.

“That will not be necessary,” Hanzo dismisses with a wave of his hand and a low chuckle.

“Once Talon and the Shimada clan join forces Blackwatch will have nothing against us.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo says. By the time Akande leaves, Hanzo slumps on the couch, weary and worried at a situation getting out of hand so quickly he couldn’t foresee it. He needs a plan, and he needs it fast, without Blackwatch’s help because that would make Akande suspicious since he is watching them closely. But it is not just his and Genji’s life in danger, it’s Jesse’s too. The sooner he finds out Akande’s plans the sooner they can fight openly because one thing Hanzo already knows: there will be war in Hanamura unless they kick Doomfist out of his territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That morning sex scene wasn't supossed to happen! But it did and I loved it so I hope you did too (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄  
> Thank you so much for reading along and bearing with my non-existent plot (๑ˊ▵ॢˋ̥๑)
> 
> PS: Chapter 7 title is "Ménage à trois"  
> ε=ε=ε=ε=ε” “(/*’-‘*)/


	7. Ménage à trois

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the following 10k words of McShimada smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Genji puts another shirt on, a see-through black top, and twirls in front of the mirror, narrowing his eyes and taking it off because Hanzo will roll his eyes as soon as he sees it. He lets the air out through his nostrils and rummages in his wardrobe, picking up a green shirt, smiling to himself because it reminds him of the day he came home with it and, to Hanzo’s surprise, matching garish green hair. His brother laughed for five minutes straight until his face was red and anger poured out of Genji at the mockery. The soft fabric caresses his torso and Genji grins at how well this color suits him even though his hair is now as black as his brother’s but with less silvery strands disturbing it.

Leaving his room, Genji runs a hand through his hair and frowns when his phone chimes. It’s still a tad too early. Unknown number. He picks up. The sweet, silken voice of Olivia greets him and it doesn’t surprise him. She contacts him from a different number every time, an impossible to track email, or a rare and unexpected encounter at the club where he carouses. It thrills Genji how free she carries her life, working freelance for Talon, Overwatch, Lumérico or Vishkar, always behind a pseudonym, and most of the time betraying them right after for her own benefit.

“Are you sending _that_ by regular mail?” Genji rolls his eyes until he sees stars, sitting on the couch of the living room. “I have no reason to mistrust you… oh wait, I do!” He chuckles at the smile he knows paints Sombra’s lips as they speak. She has missed him too. “Text me your account. I’ll transfer your usual fee.” After all this time, Genji trusts her albeit he will never confess that to her. They met a few years ago when the renowned hacker was trying to get a juicy piece of intel on the Shimada Clan to sell to others. She got nothing, Genji wasn’t so naïve to fall for those chocolate brown eyes and wide hips, though it was tempting and he played along. Olivia stalked him at the club and Genji noticed, accustomed to the attention he gets. A few drinks, sly smiles, and furtive kisses later they were at the back. He will never forget the spark of surprise in her eyes when he knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. The next kiss Genji courageously stole, thinking himself the winner of the riffraff, earned him a slap on his face and a knee against his crotch. No, Genji will never forget Olivia Colomar. Not that invigorating encounter and the taste of cherry coke from her lips or the several informal ones that followed since their first.

“When am I going to see you?” A low chuckle through the line is the last thing Genji listens before she cuts the call. Always too soon. She is not the first to stop his feet and make him wait impatiently in awe -Hanzo’s a master on that- but she’s something he looks forward into his future. But not tonight, her games mean nothing when Genji is waiting for Jesse to arrive. His brother has already called telling him he will be home late -big surprise- but it will give him time to entertain their guest for a while. Concerning Sombra, she will show up when he least expects it. She always does, especially because he has a hunch that Olivia is in Hanamura trying to sneak her dirty hands into businesses that could get her killed.

Genji cleans the registry on his phone -calls, and messages- and then transfers Sombra’s money from one of the many accounts he has access to. The girl isn’t cheap, and that’s something he appreciates too. Someone knocks at the front door and he scoots to open it and find a grinning cowboy tapping the brim of his hat and winking at him.

“Nighty, sweet pie.”

“I love when you dress like a cowboy,” Genji says, giggling at his blue flannel shirt and washed out jeans. Only a pair of chaps would top off his attire.

“I don’t dress like a cowboy,” McCree huffs, coming inside and walking with Genji toward the living room. “I’m a cowboy.” He slumps on the couch. Genji’s presence always makes him feel at home, he’s more relaxed and friendly, with Hanzo he doesn’t know if he will bite him or kiss him. And after his ill-fated confession the other night on the bathtub, he fears the other Shimada feels nothing for him but a mad attraction and a need for filthy, kinky sex. Unrequited love has been his cup of tea for years, McCree wonders why he thought it would be different this time, perhaps because Hanzo is rough and bossy but he also melts into his kisses as though he is…

“Whiskey?” Genji asks, lifting a bottle of poison and a thick round glass on each hand.

McCree nods, reclining back and catching a glimpse of Hanzo’s scent in the atmosphere. “I came through the back door of the building. Someone’s been following me and I doubled up the precautions.” He takes off his hat and rests it on the coffee table in front of him.

“And we’re being bad boys,” Genji says, offering the drink to him and sitting by his side. “We want no one finding out.” When McCree taps nervously his foot in the air and sips twice in half a minute Genji smiles and prods his belly. “Hanzo will be here soon.”

McCree chuckles and blushes slightly at his impatience, but it’s been three days in which he has only seen Hanzo twice and for work-related stuff. They’ve been putting together Blackwatch’s intel with some juicy stuff the Shimadas came up with. Internal Talon codes, most out to date but others current or maybe in the rotation. It was huge, Gabriel got to work immediately and hence, he did too, visiting Hanzo’s office only to get the information first hand and nothing else, either Hanzo was too busy or he came with another agent as a partner.

“Remember when you were trying to get into my pants?” Genji says with a devilish grin and his cowboy gut tells him he’s getting into trouble.

“Who says I don’t?” McCree winks and steals a giggle.

“Because I introduced you to my brother, and you forgot about me,” Genji pouts lovingly, scooting closer on the couch.

“You two played a number on me that night,” McCree teases, remembering the chair, the concrete floor, Hanzo’s gloved hand on him and that enticing blow job that makes his cock twitch in interest. Especially when Genji is right at his side, flirting and touching.

“Oh, Jesse, you begged for it,” Genji chuckles, giving him a peck on the cheek. “How about Hanzo?”

“What ‘bout him?”

Genji rests a hand on his knee, leaning on his shoulder to whisper in his ear. “Are you here for you, for him, or for us?” McCree’s heart leaps, the brat suspects his feelings and he cannot hide it. McCree has the hots for Hanzo since that first night, thinks only of him, gets hard only for him, hasn’t had an orgasm in weeks that didn’t belong to his brother. He is here because he wouldn’t miss a chance to slide into Hanzo’s bed, because the past few days he’s been so out of his reach his heart ached, and because one does not refuse a threesome with the Shimada brothers.

“It ain’t that simple, sweetie,” McCree says with a half-smile.

“Have you been a good boy?” Genji jests, knowing he will have to distract him in order to get more from him. So his hand kneads his thigh up and down, just as Hanzo would tease him, fingers dangerously stroking near the swell in his groin.

“You know I have,” McCree says and swallows, gulping down his drink and resting the glass on his other knee. His fingers thread on Genji’s nape, over that soft, tender skin that tickles and gives him goosebumps. “Have you?” Genji leans forward and bites his earlobe, nuzzling behind his ear.

“I just want a little taste, just a bite…” Genji slurs the words mixed with lust. “You are so big, Jesse.” His hand palms the hard bulge and McCree grunts, tilting his head. His breath carries the rugged flavor of whiskey and the frustration of days without relief.

“You sure know how to get into trouble, sweet pie,” McCree mumbles, dragging his lips over his velvety, sly smile. What do the Shimadas have that drive him mad is something McCree will never find out in this lifetime or the next.

“Is it as thick and hard as I remember?” Genji teases, outlining his cock over his jeans with deft fingers. “I wish Hanzo would’ve let you come in my mouth that night.” McCree lets out an intent sigh filled with promises of tonight, cursing the little brat and how charming he can be. He cups the back of his neck firmly and drags him into a languid kiss. His tongue assailing his sinful mouth, licking his lips, drinking his moans. This is like those kisses they shared concealed by the darkness of a nightclub when McCree hunted Genji and ended up being the prey. He smiles into the kiss at how that turned out in the end. A threesome, in bed with two Shimadas, two yakuza, two brothers that will claim him equally. Suddenly he is the luckiest man on earth, pampered like that.

“Jesse,” Genji mumbles into his mouth, hand palming thoroughly the jutting hardness. “I want to know how you feel about him. I’ll keep your secret.” McCree freezes at those words, panting into his mouth and staring into black eyes that usually hide everything but now pour his soul out, and show a true concern about his brother. They’re faithful lovers, McCree thinks inwardly, a sweet smile stretching his lips, wondering why Hanzo hasn’t told Genji about his slip up the other night. A pang of jealousy mixed with envy constricts his throat. He could lie, tell him this is just sex, that he has no feelings for Hanzo and this will last until Blackwatch finishes his business with the Shimada-gumi and they thwart Talon’s plans. But who is he trying to fool?

“I’m in love,” McCree whispers and a tender smile grows wide on Genji.

The front door clicks and opens as Hanzo enters his own home, coat draping from his arm, phone in hand. Jesse and Genji flinch and turn around to eye him and his smug smile approach in a predatory and paid of himself prowl. Leaving the coat and phone aside, Hanzo unbuttons his jacket and shrugs it off, rolling the sleeves of his shirt to the elbow as he watches the scene, relishing in the pink blush on McCree’s cheeks and the mischievous smile stretching Genji’s lips.

“You two are a menace together, five more minutes and you would be misbehaving.”

“I just wanted a taste of the cowboy,” Genji says, a naughty tongue wetting his lips.

“By all means, have it,” Hanzo invites, pouring a drink for himself and taking a seat on a leather armchair opposite to them with a clear view of a flustered cowboy that he knows aches for a kiss from his lips. Hanzo sways the glass to stir the whiskey while Genji straddles Jesse eagerly, sucking at his neck while deft fingers unbutton his shirt and sneak inside to fondle the expanse of his fuzzy chest.

“You’re bossy today, darlin’,” McCree jokes, hands groping for Genji’s ass.

“You have no idea,” Hanzo says with a smug smile that reaches his eyes and disappears behind the bottom of a glass as he sips again.

McCree is making out with Genji in front of Hanzo and he feels a mixture of guiltiness and envy, pouring his sexual frustration on him, fondling and kissing in desperation, but also keeping his eyes open looking for Hanzo, his approval, a hint that suggests he is doing nothing wrong. At some point, he lets go when Genji trails a path of bites and kisses down his chest and crawls to his knees between his legs.

“Damn,” McCree curses and Hanzo chuckles softly.

Hanzo stares at them, at the spectacle they are together, his brother, the other half of his soul and the man that has made a place in his heart way too soon and way too deep. He sports a full hard on he has no intention to stimulate yet, but he can sense it pulsing in his trousers and leaving an obvious bulge at one side. They are too much. Genji glances over his shoulder at him. “Anija?”

“Go on, take a bite,” Hanzo commands and sips again to ease the tightness in his stomach with a sore throat.

There is no better scenario to come back home to, Jesse and Genji on the couch waiting for him to allow for all the filthy ideas rambling his little brother’s mind. He knows them all too well, has pleased them all over the years and will keep on doing it as long as Genji wants him. The brat unfastens eagerly McCree’s jeans and pulls them down enough to see his jutting erection fighting to get out of his boxers. Genji mouths at it and soaks the underwear in his saliva, feeling the hard, hot length underneath. McCree groans loudly and pets Genji’s hair lovingly, memories of that night flashing through him like a surge. He meets Hanzo’s gaze and turns red beet all of a sudden.

“Enjoy, cowboy,” Hanzo toasts with the remains of his whiskey. ”Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

“Are ya’ going to watch, darlin’?”

“All the way through.”

McCree moans again when Genji pulls the underwear down and lavishes his cock with hungry lips and an eager tongue. He spreads his knees as much as his jeans allow him and scoots down on the couch, petting Genji’s hair while his other hand holds his cock by the hilt, tilting it toward that heavenly, warm mouth with clear intentions to plunge it right there. Hanzo misses nothing from his spot, sipping again and watching his little brother enveloping McCree’s cock with his lips and swallowing him dutifully. Without noticing, his hand falls beside his strained erection and he caresses it through the fabric with his thumb, a flick of tongue wetting his lips, his chest heaving up and down at the sight and the wet noises Genji croons.

“Oh, honey,” McCree groans, parted lips waving in unison with his ragged breath.

Genji squeezes his thighs, hands roving up his exposed chest, sensing McCree’s muscles flex and twitch just because of him. The thickness of him stretches his lips and fills his mouth just how he remembered, and he cannot wait to have him pounding inside him. But now Genji is free to suck and milk him dry with his mouth, brushing his tongue on the underside while he bobs his head back and forth. McCree keeps his cock in place for him, treating him with it, and Genji swallows and pushes him deeper until his lips brush his knuckles and the tip of his cock prods his throat and makes him gag. He hums a moan, dragging back to gasp for air and keep the sweet torture for as long as he can.

“Jesse,” Hanzo calls from his seat with a mischievous smile. “Do not come.”

A strangled moan leaves his lungs, he is so close already, Genji is blowing him so willingly his balls are tight and ready. He tugs at his hair in a futile attempt to stop him but Genji is relentless and sucks harder, hoarding half his cock in his mouth while he circles his tongue around the tip.

“Damn it,” McCree curses, and a cold sweat drips down his spine, his stomach curls up in a ball of pleasure ready to be unleashed when Hanzo deems.

Hanzo stands, leaves the glass on the coffee table with a thump and ambles toward the couch the few steps that separate them. He joins his hand with McCree’s on Genji’s head and the brat moans into his cock, slowing his pace, sucking rhythmically and lapping every single spurt of pre-cum that leaks from it. Then Hanzo cups McCree’s face, the corner of his mouth pulls upward in a half-smile and he positions himself behind the couch, his hand still on McCree’s jaw, caressing the scratchy beard with his fingers.

“Is he as good as you remembered?” Hanzo leans downward to whisper into his ear and McCree throws his head back, cheek against cheek, pursuing his touch while he tries to control the bucking of his hips to avoid choking Genji into a hot gush.

“Yes,” McCree swallows, pushes into Hanzo’s hand.

“Better than me?” Hanzo chuckles and McCree follows too.

“I reckon I’ll need another demonstration to judge properly,” McCree teases, relishing in the sweet smile that he knows paints Hanzo’s lips as he bites his earlobe.

Hanzo’s hands move from his shoulders to his bare chest, finding his nipples and rolling his fingers over them until they are hard and sensitive. “Hold on for me,” Hanzo whispers and McCree mumbles a deaf yes. He kisses his neck and cheek, puffing his warm breath into his skin while Genji is still enjoying his sweet treat. “Open your mouth.”

McCree trashes his head back over the couch and a moan escapes his lungs. Hanzo hunts for his mouth, sucking at his lower lip as forcefully as Genji sucks his cock. He tilts his head to a side to get a better angle and trap McCree’s mouth into a filthy kiss, thrusting his tongue into him, fucking him with it. The cowboy trembles, surrendering to the kiss, to the blowjob, to the hands traveling up his throat, thumbs caressing his jaw. Everything is too much, he will come, a minute more of those unmerciful lovers ravishing his body like a sumptuous feast and he will spill himself and disappoint Hanzo.

“Darlin’,” he mumbles. “Please.”

Hanzo has the nerve to chuckle, to bite at his lower lip while Genji’s mouth ripples around his throbbing cock and Hanzo maps his chest again and pinches ruthlessly his nipples. But when his mouth is out of his reach McCree whines and seeks it, follows him with his eyes while Hanzo sits on the arm of the couch, leaning over his side and squeezing Genji’s shoulder. McCree has both hands with fingers thoroughly thread into his black hair, pushing gently for more, rocking his hips into him even though he knows he shouldn’t because it could be his end, hanging at the verge of his climax. And it is, McCree’s breath seizes, his movements are frantic, and he stares into Hanzo’s deep voids with hooded lids pleading for mercy. But then Genji stops, drags him out and escapes from his fingers. His cock, glistening in saliva, bounces over his belly, and he lets out a loud groan while Genji pants and cleans his mouth with the back of his hand. Hanzo shushes Jesse, sparing feeble kisses along his jaw. “Breathe,” he whispers, reveling in the frustration at having his climax so close and now so far. And for a moment, he naively thought Hanzo would allow him to come.

“You’re so mean, darlin’,” McCree says to Hanzo, his hand searching for Genji to cup his cheek and wink at him.

“I have missed you,” Hanzo whispers into his ear, bringing a dopey smile to McCree while Genji giggles at his brother’s unleashed cheesiness in the cowboy’s presence. Hanzo stands, helping his little brother up and holding him from behind. McCree relishes in how Genji melts into Hanzo’s arms, moves his head to a side, exposing his neck and whines at the soft bites and kisses from Hanzo. The sight of them together is one to behold. Hanzo’s hand travels down his navel and grips Genji’s bulge, squeezing until he steals a moan, palming him over his jeans.

McCree takes himself in hand, eyes fixed on them, hand fisting his cock with urgency. Genji turns his head and Hanzo takes his mouth, sucking at his tongue, stealing McCree’s flavor from it. “Tasty cowboy, indeed,” Hanzo says with a sultry voice full of intent, his hands unfastening Genji’s jeans until one craddles his sac and the other grips his hard cock. The cowboy licks his lips when Hanzo tugs at his length twice and then takes him by the hilt invitingly. They lock eyes, a mischievous smile growing wide on Hanzo while he drags his lips on Genji’s neck. “Care to help me with this?”

“Sure, darlin’,” McCree says with a wolfish grin, leaning forward. His lips find the oozing tip, smearing his essence while short laps allow him to savor Genji. The brat moans his name from sheer pleasure and McCree traps his cock into his mouth as though he was starving.

“Should we make you come, Genji?” Hanzo whispers, words caressing the shell of his ear at the same time his fingers thread through McCree’s hair.

“Yes, anija,” he gasps, yielding to his brother’s embrace and the filthy mouth sucking him.

McCree strokes himself faster, pushing him deep inside his throat, wanting Genji to enjoy him as much as he has enjoyed his mouth around him. Hanzo tugs at his hair and he opens his eyes and glances up at him. “Ah, Jesse,” Genji moans. Hanzo thrusts his hips forward and pushes Genji into McCree’s mouth. He does it again and McCree moans around him, getting used to the rhythm and following it dutifully.

“Come for us, Genji,” Hanzo whispers, moving his hand to McCree’s throat, caressing it gently and noting how his little brother fills him every other thrust.

McCree frees his own cock, so close to his climax he wraps two fingers tightly around his hilt and sucks harder to distract himself from his frustration. Hanzo chuckles, reveling in his desperation, and though it should piss him off, it makes his cock twitch, like a praise, like the loving words Hanzo pours into the room just for the two of them.

Genji comes sudden and hard, a harsh buck from his hips and a twitch from his cock and McCree is choking on his load, swallowing and dragging him out, opening his mouth to gasp for air. The last spurt of come lands on his chin when Hanzo squeezes Genji’s cock to elongate his orgasm as much as he can.

“Fuck,” Genji moans, knees trembling, leaning back into his brother’s strong chest.

“Such a good cowboy,” Hanzo says, cleaning with his knuckles the trail of come from his chin. McCree opens his mouth and tries to lick them, but Hanzo smiles triumphantly when he lets his tongue out to taste his brother. McCree groans, his cock aching and begging for relief while a flustered Genji giggles at his brother’s lewdness. “Bedroom,” Hanzo says, patting Genji’s ass and smiling at Jesse.

McCree stands, recovers his empty glass from a corner of the couch and leaves it beside the other on the table. On his way to the bedroom, he grasps Hanzo’s elbow, the Shimada turns about and he cups his face. “I’ve missed ya’ too, darlin’,” he says with a half-smile.

Hanzo throws his arms over his shoulders, standing on his tiptoes with the clear intention to join their lips together, but the innocent peck turns into something hot, languid, and wet when McCree groans, gropes for his ass and assails his mouth with a deep need for sex, for him, for the many kisses he wanted to drown himself into these past days and could not. He never thought the hardest part of his work as Hanzo’s contact would be not being able to kiss him whenever he wanted.

“Jesse,” Hanzo gasps into his mouth, trapping again those sinful lips that speak wonders and turn him into a sore mess, the familiar taste of Genji stirring him up badly. It was heartbreaking to witness McCree leaving his office without even touching him, so far and so close at the same time.

“I’m waiting!” Genji calls for them as he takes off his clothes and leaves them in disarray on the floor. Hanzo chuckles, running a thumb over McCree’s abused lips and heading to the bedroom followed closely by an eager cowboy.

 

At this moment, while he removes his clothes and Genji and Jesse lie naked on the bed between kisses and an already messy bedding, Hanzo forgets about everything; about the shitty day he has had at work. Other clan leaders and even the Elders press on him to make a decision and join forces with Talon; on the other hand, Akande insists on wooing him. The man sent a bouquet of red roses to his office with the promise of seeing each other soon and contribute to the _anticipation_ Hanzo asked for. They will meet the day after tomorrow, in the same hotel as the last time but this time alone in a room. No dinner to go through. The leader of Talon wants sex and Hanzo knows exactly what he needs. He wrapped his mind about it the moment he started playing with fire, but he will venture into a mission with no backup and he cannot help but wonder if he should tell McCree and inform Blackwatch about his plans or if it is already too late for that.

Hanzo takes a hank of rope out from the drawer and the memories of the night with McCree blur any concern from his mind. To tie up the cowboy always brings a naughty smile to his lips. McCree is on top of Genji, peppering kisses all over his face and making him laugh adorably. It fills his heart to see his brother carefree and enjoying himself with a lover he knows is caring and worthy of him. One day Hanzo should leave control to McCree, free reign in bed to do as he pleases with him, his little brother, or both. Climbing up the bed, Hanzo draws their attention to him, and revels in McCree’s eyes opening widely when he spots the red rope in his hands.

“Is that for me or for him?” McCree asks with an arched eyebrow.

“For you, if you want,” Hanzo says, crawling up to kiss his cheek. “I want to tie you up to the headboard while we tease you for as long as we want.”

“Yes, darlin’,” he says in that honeyed southern drawl.

“You tamed him,” Genji jests, nudging McCree and earning a bite on his neck that soon turns into a lascivious kiss when Jesse follows his throat and outlines his lips with a taut tongue. Hanzo groans, jealous of them, a hand kneading McCree’s ass while he watches them mingle into a kiss he hasn’t been invited to.

“Lie on your back, Jesse,” Hanzo commands and pats him on the butt cheek. “Genji, get the lube and be a good boy while I tie _our_ cowboy up.” McCree lies on the mattress and smiles when Hanzo hovers over him. “Lower.” He obeys and Genji removes the pillow and lies on a side watching them both.

Hanzo joins his wrists together over his stomach, wrapping the rope around them twice to form a double column tie, working skillfully and focused. McCree loves the face of concentration he makes, the slight pout on his lips and the narrowing of his eyes while he passes the bight behind the two sets of ropes, securing his wrists with two loops. “Pretty handy with that rope,” McCree says and steals a half-smile from Hanzo. He slides two fingers easily between his skin and the bindings and also makes sure the hands cannot slip through.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” McCree experienced for the first time the calmness of being tied up the other night, and now it is something he craves late at night. Red ropes lurk through his mind and plant ideas of surrender, of bliss, always with Hanzo. It isn’t as intimate because Genji is there, but he is so sweet lying next to him and ghosting fingers along his bicep. His presence soothes him too. He will never find two lovers more trustworthy than the Shimadas. He doesn’t want to.

“I will secure the ends to the headboard now,” Hanzo says. “If you feel overwhelmed, we will get you out fast.” McCree nods, the image of Hanzo’s weight on top of his thighs completely naked isn’t doing any favors to his neglected erection.

“He’s a tough guy,” Genji teases, toying with the working ends of the rope.

“Do you remember how to do it, Genji?” His little brother smiles enthusiastically and kneels quickly on the bed, nodding his answer. “Tie him at the level of the mattress.” Genji guides McCree’s arms above his head. “I want his arms up but not hanging.”

While Genji works with the ropes, wrapping them around the headboard bar, Hanzo maps McCree’s chest with his hands, bracing on him, sensing his ragged breath and his thumping heart. Genji has tied him up in the past and has pleased his most dark fantasies as only a true lover would, he trusts him blindly. Hanzo traces McCree’s tattoo with deft fingers, giving him goosebumps and awakening an interest in his past, realizing he knows the man he has become but is oblivious to the man he was. Suddenly, he wants to know all about him, not all at once but slowly find out the things that make McCree who he is.

“Have you had a threesome before?” McCree’s curiosity takes the better of him, he shouldn’t ask because he won’t like the answer. It is the first time for him, and that should be enough.

“We have shared lovers in the past,” Hanzo says and Genji chuckles, remembering the many times he and his brother indulged themselves in one-night stands from time to time, but always getting tired and preferring the company of the other. Never like this. There is a point where the third lover was a nuisance they had to get rid after. Genji suspects that won’t be the case with the cowboy.

A pang of disappointment hits McCree. He isn’t the first and probably won’t be the last to fill their bed. Hanzo notices the slight purse of his lips and wraps a hand around his cock, throbbing and leaking clear droplets, stroking him gently up and down, feeling how hard he is, how ready to come and how wonderfully he keeps his erection despite the respite and the teasing.

“But I have never felt the need to tie them to my bed as I do with you,” Hanzo praises with a raspy voice tinted with lust and want. McCree moans and tries to buck his hips up into that silky hand, but Hanzo’s weight doesn’t let him. They share a knowing gaze until Genji interrupts them.

“Or to fuck them in the morning…” Genji mutters.

“Genji!” Hanzo chides him and McCree chuckles, smiling widely at the statement.

“Done,” Genji says, giving Hanzo a peck on his cheek and slumping back on the bed.

Hanzo leaves McCree’s cock bouncing on his stomach and leans forward, kneeling at both sides of his waist to inspect proudly his brother’s work. A pulley system secured by a double half hitch has McCree safely attached to the headboard. He tugs at it, snug and perfect, securing McCree’s arms up, resting comfortably on the bed above his head. A wet tongue on his left nipple distracts him and Hanzo glances down to find a grinning cowboy proud of his mischief.

“Relax your arms,” Hanzo whispers, lowering his chest to his mouth but right before McCree can put his lips over his perked nip he straightens, sitting back on his stomach. A low complaint leaves the cowboy’s mouth, and Hanzo would swear he has seen a pout framed by a scruffy beard. He sneaks a pillow behind his head with the help from Genji to offer a more comfortable position, and particularly because he wants the cowboy to miss nothing of what will follow. “Comfortable?”

“Yes, darlin’,” McCree says, breathing out the nerves and testing the ropes. He has a few inches of movement, not enough to lower his arms below his head albeit there is no tightness around his wrists, only the same scratchy sensation from the ropes than the other time. He smartly rests his arms on the pillow and mattress and relaxes into the bindings, expectant to what the Shimadas have for him.

They huddle against him, one at each side, Genji shamelessly rutting against his thigh and Hanzo dragging his lips over his nipple. “You wanted to be between us, are you sure you can handle us?”

“Yeah… ah!” the word dies in a whine when Hanzo traps the tip between his teeth, his warm hand fondling his stomach and sensing the flexing of his muscles. Genji mimics his brother on the other side, swaying his tongue in leisurely laps that leave his nip sensitive and wet.

The harshness of Hanzo’s bite and the lewdness of Genji’s tongue are unrivaled by nothing he has experienced before. McCree tugs at the ropes and arches his spine desperately but he is at the mercy of two ruthless mouths that bite as relentlessly and demandingly as they kiss. His moans are unmatched by the wet noises and groans of pleasure while the Shimadas lavish his chest in endless love bites. Hanzo leaves his mark on him, as he always does, indents of teeth, pink hickeys, and bruises. Opposite to him, Genji sucks and laps his skin, his poor nipple is red and swollen by the sucking force of his mouth, and as if it was not enough, a smooth hand nestles and plays with his balls and McCree spreads his knees in response. Hanzo supports his leg over his side, chuckling with a mouth full of his flesh and biting harshly, clenching his teeth and then easing the pain with a warm tongue. He is making a work of art from the cowboy and he intends to punish him for the flick of his tongue earlier.

“You are so pretty defenseless,” Hanzo praises, glancing down and watching how Genji pulls at his balls, cock leaving a pool of pre-cum near his navel. “Do you want to come?” Hanzo asks with a mischievous smile, dragging the words over his spit-covered chest.

“Please, sweetheart,” McCree moans, writhing underneath the two brothers.

“Not yet,” Hanzo whispers, tracing with a finger the length of his cock. “First, I want you to watch how I prepare my brother for you.”

“With your tongue,” Genji says, pursing his lips to prevent a naughty smile showing on his face.

“I could do that for you, sweet pie.” McCree winks at him and earns a bite from Hanzo.

“Do not make me gag you, cowboy,” Hanzo threatens, straightening until he is kneeling on the bed. “Because I want to see how your face twists in pleasure and then frustration, longing, wondering if I will give you what you want or if I will just fuck my brother on top of you.”

“Darlin’…” McCree gasps.

Genji straddles Jesse eagerly, trapping his hard cock between their bodies while Hanzo motions himself at his back, pushing a demanding hand between his shoulder blades. Genji knows the drill, busies himself with Jesse’s nipples and lifts his ass dutifully at his brother.

“Anija,” he moans when Hanzo spreads his butt cheeks wide.

“Sing for me, sparrow.”

McCree watches in awe the sheer pleasure on Genji’s sweet features when Hanzo buries his face in his ass. His cock jerks against the brat who mouths and moans against his skin. He gets a glimpse of Hanzo, flustered pink cheeks hidden behind a puffy ass. Their gazes meet and Hanzo draws back, mouth agape and a glistening trail of spit connecting the tip of his tongue with Genji. The corner of his mouth pulls upward before he darts his tongue in fast, intent strokes, eliciting more enticing noises out in the room.

“Genji,” Jesse mumbles, desperate for a kiss, a touch. Witnessing this as the satisfying torture he wasn’t ready for. The brat leans forward, finding his lips, pouring his luscious moans into his open mouth while Hanzo stretches him with a taut tongue that doesn’t fill him how he wants but pushes demandingly into him, twirling and lapping his ass.

“Tell Jesse what you want, Genji,” Hanzo says, slapping his ass gently while he finds the lube and coats generously his fingers.

“I want you to fuck me,” Genji says with a mischievous smile, a finger drumming over swollen lips and drawing a wolfish grin on the cowboy.

“That is not what you said.” Hanzo slides a finger inside him, spreading him with his other hand while his tongue outlines the ring muscle on the outside.

“Come on, sweet pie,” McCree encourages, lifting his head as much as he can to fish for a kiss.

“I want to ride the cowboy,” Genji says while a crimson shadow tints his cheeks beautifully.

Hanzo chuckles feebly, gusting his breath right into him. He pushes the tip of another finger, easing the way with lube and a courageous tongue that fits between them, surely easing with his caresses the lingering burn at being stretched by spreading fingers so soon. Genji moans loudly, nuzzling in the crook of his neck and feeling the cowboy’s racing pulse and impatience.

“And who am I to deny the wishes of my brother?” Hanzo retorts, thrusting his fingers in and out of him, forcing the muscle soft, licking his heat, fingers digging holes on his glorious butt cheek.

“I can’t wait to have ya’ bouncing on my dick,” McCree slurs, fighting unconsciously the ropes because he’d want to wrap his arms around the brat, to map his lean back until his fingertips would find Hanzo. His fingers, his tongue, the clenching hole he wishes to fuck and to fill to the brim.

Hanzo adds a third finger to the bundle, pink stretched skin swallowing them, tongue angry and desperate, lapping in leisurely strokes the area, his butt, the place where they are joined. He loves Genji like this, taking everything he gives and trembling from sheer pleasure. Most of the time his little brother urges him to fuck him by this point, but tonight he knows it would only delay the outcome.

“Ah, more, Hanzo,” he moans and McCree chuckles, his chest heaving from his throaty laugh and disturbing the gentle creature on top. Mischief glitters in Genji’s eyes, and he grips McCree’s hard, throbbing cock into his delicate hand, stroking him mercilessly fast.

“Damn, Genji,” McCree curses, hips already following the raunchy movements of his hand, pursuing more even though he cannot release the pressure tightening his balls. The brat winks at him, shushing his mischief, and he is so close, his breath seizes deep, mouth agape unable to let out a strangled moan. Damn if the brat isn't skilled enough to jerk him off to his climax in less than a minute.

“Genji.” Hanzo’s hoarse voice clenches his stomach and Genji stops right at the brink of orgasm.

McCree whines, not minding the slapping noise filling the room and the soft wail of Genji muffled right into his chest. He surely has a red shaped hand printed on his ass and though McCree really wants to mourn at the orgasm he hasn’t had. He smiles and kisses the crown of his head lovingly instead.

“Next time, -Hanzo spanks him again, leaving trails of lube on his skin- I will tie you up and we will have our fun with you.” The thought clenches McCree’s stomach beautifully in a ball of delight. Hanzo locks eyes with him again, the grin on his face easing the ruthlessness of his words. Not empty threats, but pleasurable ones instead. And of course, the brat would be the one to enjoy a good spanking and misbehave just to get it. Such filthy games the Shimadas play with each other, and he’s invited today to be a part of it all. McCree bursts with impatience, yanking uselessly at the ropes.

“Anija,” Genji purrs, more pleased than chastised by the threat, seeking to fill again the emptiness in his body.

Hanzo straightens and manhandles Genji, hitching him up over his chest while tender arms wrap around him. McCree spreads his legs further to accommodate them both there, exposing them to the sight of his firm cock and the rest of him. Nothing to hide. His foot finds Hanzo’s calf, and he pursues the brief touch of skin. The corner of Hanzo’s eyes wrinkle, his smirk hidden behind his brother’s shoulder.

“You are full of mischief,” Hanzo chides, greedy hands mapping the expanse of Genji’s alabaster skin until they knead his chest, rosy nipples standing up for attention at the callous hands. Genji arches his spine, offering himself to Hanzo while a mischievous smile grows wide on his lips.

“Fuck me out of it, then.”

McCree witnesses the shadow that crosses Hanzo’s eyes, how he leads a hand up to snare loosely his throat. Genji leans obediently into it, partly opened lips exhaling a bawdy moan. Hanzo takes himself in hand, the remaining lube on his fingers suffices to slick his cock and he positions himself, breaches in, holds a few seconds his breath, his body, and his aching cock and then plunges himself deep inside his brother. He drives himself in a slow glide at the same time Genji pushes back into him as the eager lover he is. And they remain like that, joined, Genji owned by his brother, his urge to control and possess, and Hanzo defeated by Genji’s lust, his desire, everything coalescing marvelously in an instant.

“Goddamnit,” McCree swears. “You two are a sight for sore eyes.”

Genji smiles, hooded lids hiding his soul from him. Their ragged breaths slow down and Hanzo, eager for more, grips bruisingly his waist and pulls out half-way only to lunge forward and steal a moan when he bottoms out. Genji’s noises reverberate in his hand, his pulse racing strong against his fingers, and his palm clammy against his throat. As soon as Genji begs for more Hanzo fucks him unhurriedly, his cock finishing the job of his fingers as he splits him open for Jesse. Every onslaught feels like a dream, tight, hot, a pleasant glide thanks to the lubrication. His little brother molds his cock, always has, he was made for him, they were made for each other and so many years together proved them the lust they yielded to in their youth was the materialization of their love, despite those who would claim this as deviant.

“Anija,” Genji whimpers, subdued to his brother’s heartwarming onslaughts. They scream his heart out loud: mine, forever mine to share or to treasure.

Hanzo whispers in Japanese husky words McCree cannot understand, envious of it, slightly struggling into his bindings, drowning in the sight of something forbidden, secret, and pure. There are no doubts in his heart the Shimadas haven’t shared this with anyone before. They fuck as one, and when they both look at him, Genji glancing down with watery eyes, Hanzo furtive behind his brother’s shoulder; he knows. This is a gift just for him. More than sex, Hanzo’s words chase him whenever his treacherous heart tries rebelliously to diminish his love for him, for the dark creature breaking a sweat in every ungentle thrust, for the sweet thing moaning, cock bouncing firmly in the air, a trail of glistening pre-cum pooling on the bedding. Right now, he wants them both exactly where they are and himself in the middle.

If McCree could stand and touch, he’d be devouring that mouth, a hand on Hanzo’s ass to feel the muscles flex as he fucks, another wrapped around Genji and his own cock, wanting nothing more than relief, his denied climax finally finding its way out… When Genji tumbles on his hands and knees before him he leaves behind his reverie, watching how Hanzo pulls out of him and inspect with bare teeth -only a fool would call that a smile- the gaping hole trying to clench into thin air.

“Go for your ride, Genji,” Hanzo says, encouraging his little brother to straddle McCree.

“C’mere, sweet pie,” McCree mumbles, longing for a touch in the solitude of the ropes. Genji’s lightweight rests on his lower stomach while the brat massages his wrists and arms down to his shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin. “I’m more than okay,” McCree whispers with a wink, his arms resting over the mattress not leaving a place for discomfort or numbness farther than the need to touch and move freely.

He flinches when a familiar hand slicks his length in lube, warming it up with long strokes of his hand that makes his cock throb jittery. Bending his knees, McCree pushes with the balls of his feet on the bed and bucks up into Hanzo’s fist to get more. There is something so lewd in how Hanzo leads his cock to Genji’s stretched ass while he kisses his shoulder and nibbles his skin. It is Genji who lifts his hips and then sits carefully, taking his cock inch by inch on his way down.

“Greedy,” Hanzo growls, knowing McCree is stretching his brother widely, his cock thicker than his own.

“Oh! Jesse,” Genji moans, knees spread wide while he relaxes and gets used to him. Hanzo bites his neck, scooting closer, a hand on McCree’s knee while the other palms his brother’s chest.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” McCree grunts, gathering all his strength to stay stock still and let Genji -or Hanzo- set the pace. Tender hands travel up his stomach and chest, bracing Genji while he attempts and up and down movement of his own. They both moan in unison at the grinding of their bodies together, his cock sliding in and out of his tight embrace.

Hanzo moves his hand down the underside of his leg until he nestles McCree’s most private parts, chuckling mischievously at the flinch on his legs. “Enjoy your ride, Genji, but do not spur on him or this will be over fast…” The teasing tune flushes McCree.

“Ride me, darlin’,” he challenges with a gentle rolling of his hips meeting Genji’s unhurried movements. It starts slow as their bodies get used to it, McCree struggling with the ropes wanting nothing more than to grope for the Shimada ass that he is fucking in earnest. Hanzo tugs and toys with his balls, prodding south, sending a jolt of pleasure; soon it turns into something more fierce, Genji shamelessly bouncing on his lap, fists on his chest, head thrashed in awe at the endless pleasure he seems to get from his cock. McCree meets him up, thrusting smartly, so he never leaves his heat.

Hanzo never enjoyed watching Genji with other lovers, often leery of their intentions, plainly jealous that they touched, tarnished or pretended to own what is rightfully his. A darkness grew always in his mind while his brother remained free of it. The threesomes had rules, he didn’t want to know about their separated lovers, and now, with McCree, a lover he trusts, he respects, he… craves regardless, Hanzo revels in the unalloyed joy of the cowboy pleasuring his brother in this manner. Fucking him senseless, pouring tenderness, care, and sweetness into the loving words, the praises, the slurred pet names he wished were for him too. “You two are inciting me to madness,” Hanzo growls, holding Genji from behind and clenching his teeth on the crook of his neck.

“Don’t be jealous, anija,” Genji purrs between gasps. “I’ll ride you after.” He earns another harsh bite while Hanzo grasps his cock mercilessly and jerks him off in a loose fist. Hanzo isn’t jealous, he is mad with lust, an urgency to be part of it, to see them both melt in a shared orgasm. His other hand cups his ass, digging his fingers on his flesh, leaving marks, spreading and teasing where McCree shoves his cock into his little brother. How he would want to sink himself there with him!

“Hanzo, darlin’,” McCree pleads. His eyes beg, his arms tense, back arched to keep thrusting up into Genji despite the weariness in his muscles at the physical exertions.

“Come inside him,” Hanzo commands. “I want to feel you after.”

Genji moans at the forceful onslaughts from Jesse, keeping his position on top of him with the help of Hanzo who strokes him and drags out his pleasure out of him as he always does. A thief, that’s what his brother is, bestowing pleasure as though he was born for it. Genji comes first, his cock twitches in Hanzo’s hand and his brother knows exactly how to squeeze to milk him dry, painting McCree’s chest in white stripes that leave his body sudden and desperate as the moans fill the room.

“Sparrow,” Hanzo whispers, caressing the shell of his ear with his lips.

McCree grunts at the sudden tightness around his cock, unable to thrust, trapped there inside him until Genji’s climax recedes and he thrusts up, meeting Hanzo’s gaze who holds Genji for him. Under the lascivious scrutinize of those black onyxes, McCree surrenders, abandons his body to him, to Genji, fucking into that heavenly hole so frantically he loses track of time. He fills him to the brim, comes hard and long for what feels like ages. His body writhes, trembles, pleasure washing through him guided by that raspy sultry voice that sends him to the stars and pulls him back to earth. His gravity. “Hanzo,” he mumbles his name, eyes closed, lungs grasping for an air that isn’t nearly enough.

Genji falls to his side, pulling out and leaving a white trail behind. Sweaty and weary as he is, McCree opens his eyes right on time to see a predatory Hanzo determined to hunt for his prey. He hunches over Genji who wraps his legs around his waist while Hanzo slides inside him with urgency producing the lewdest growl he will ever hear.

Genji wails at the cock filling him anew. “Fuck me, anija.”

Hanzo cups his face, a thumb outlining his swollen lips by blissful pleasure until Genji traps it into his mouth and sucks. Hanzo fucks him faster, knees anchored in the mattress for leverage, hips working ruthlessly in a fast sway. His skin drenches in a thin veil of sweat McCree wants to lick and taste. The cowboy fights the ropes, pulls at them, tries to find something to occupy his mouth until Hanzo takes pity on him and kisses him.

“Darlin’,” McCree whispers before Hanzo thrusts his tongue inside his mouth, breathing his air, stealing his wits, his common sense, the warmth in his heart. _Take it all and more_ , McCree wryly thinks, _and me with you._

Hanzo pours his orgasm into his brother, his ass leaking their mingled come as he fucks into him while he rides out his climax, the surge curling his spine, refusing to leave too soon until he is soft and slips outside with a strangled moan of frustration at wanting more. That’s the effect Genji has on him, he always wants more, of him, of his unmarred soul forgiving all his sins and embracing them as their own.

There is nothing more than ragged breaths echoing in the room and a mess of limbs conquering the bed. Hanzo kisses Jesse languidly, nibbling at his lower lip before sharing the same with Genji. “You’re crushing me,” Genji pouts, nudging Hanzo with the balls of his feet and, obviously, earning a bite on his neck that intended to be harsher and less tender but dies in a loving kiss.

Hanzo stands with a smug smile, muscles weak and relaxed after his release. But he needs to untie Jesse and clean the mess they’ve made of themselves. He cleans himself briefly in the bathroom and then comes back with a wet towel, finding Genji kissing McCree between snickers. Climbing up the bed, he ignores his little brother’s pout when he unabashedly cleans between his ass. “Here, clean your mess while I release McCree,” Hanzo says, leaning over Jesse and smiling at him while deft hands take care of the ropes.

“My arms are a bit numb,” McCree says, the cold and cleaned-up skin on his stomach giving him goosebumps. Hanzo sets the ropes aside, handing them to Genji so he can fold them properly. Then he straddles Jesse, runs gently his warmed-up hands over the length of his arms, awakening his flesh, bringing them slowly to the front over his own thighs.

“Better?” He mumbles, focused on kneading and massaging the limbs to get the blood flowing naturally.

The numbness goes away soon, and a prickling feeling invades his arms, heavy and weak at Hanzo’s ministrations and the ropes. “Yes, darlin’.” Genji comes back to bed and lies by their side, yawning and stretching like the cat who got the cream.

“You should be fine in a few moments,” Hanzo says, leaning forward to massage his shoulders while McCree moves his hands to fondle the muscled thighs at his reach. As a wolfish grin spreads on his mouth McCree gropes for Hanzo’s ass and brings him onward, making him tumble over. His mouth opens, ready to trap a mouthful of his left nipple, sucking intently and humming a pleasant moan while Hanzo lets out a hearty chuckle, forearm bracing him on the mattress.

“Oh, Jesse, that’s why he trusses you up,” Genji laughs, rolling onto his back.

“You two are incorrigible,” Hanzo huffs, stroking McCree’s hair while he latches on his nipple.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” McCree mumbles against his flesh before Hanzo rolls to the other side and lies next to him, sparing kisses on his shoulder and ghosting his fingers over those naughty, swollen lips.

“You better rest while you can, cowboy,” Hanzo threatens. “Because we are not nearly done.”

“Who’s the insatiable one now?” McCree quips.

“Me,” Genji lies partly on top of him, a playful hand traveling down to fondle the expanse of his impressively well-built torso while his mouth lavishes his neck with bites and pecks.

“I warned you,” Hanzo croons, clasping his hand with McCree’s and bringing it down his half hard cock. A loud groan is McCree’s answer, willing to yield to the endless pleasure that the Shimadas offer tonight with open arms. “Are you ready for more?” Genji giggles, busied with McCree’s earlobe.

“Yes, darlin’,” McCree gasps, tamed and willing.

 

As soon as he wakes up, McCree realizes is still late at night and not early in the morning, but the urge to go to the bathroom weights more than the comfortable bed. Genji snuggles against him, deeply asleep judging by the rumbling noise of his breathing. Then he realizes Hanzo has left and McCree frowns, straightens, and pats the cold side of the bed at his back. “Hanzo,” Genji mumbles lovingly and he shushes him kissing his cheek before climbing down the bed and entering the bathroom.

McCree is wonderfully sore because of their activities, he knew Genji would be insatiable but Hanzo is equally demanding and hard to sate, knowing exactly what to say or do to bedazzle him and lure him into the most delightful orgasms or his life. He cleans his hands and admires Genji peacefully sleeping on his way out, his mouth dry and his heart wondering why isn’t Hanzo warming up the bed too. The outcome of the night unraveled differently than he anticipated, McCree hoped to drown himself into two bodies to his heart’s content, messy and sweaty sex, and his expectations were largely exceeded in that aspect, but the Shimadas also shared their love with him in the most primitive way possible. Hanzo made love to him and his brother, and he made love to them until exhaustion conquered their bodies and led them into a much-needed drowsiness. As he approaches the living room, he spots a dim light seeping into the hall. Like a moth to the light, he wryly thinks.

Hanzo hunches over his knees, the silky blue robe partly opened and exposing the threatening dragon roving his skin. There is a sadness in his gaze, a loneliness McCree wants to heal and kiss away, shrinking his stomach at the mere thought of not being able to ease his pain. Hanzo sips what seems a pouring of whiskey and a half-smile pulls the corner of his mouth upward when he ghosts his fingers along the brim of his cowboy hat, laying on the coffee table right where he left it hours ago. Hanzo stops as soon as he eyes him as though he had caught him doing something wrong.

“I didn’t peg you for the one to drown your sorrows in alcohol, darlin’,” McCree drawls and inches his way to the couch, awfully aware of the borrowed boxers being the only thing covering his body. “Trouble sleeping?” He sits by his side, resting an arm on the back of the couch. Hanzo is freshly showered, damp hair brushed back and loose, exactly how he likes it on him.

“Sometimes my worries keep me awake.” Hanzo gulps down his serving and abandons the glass near an almost empty bottle.

“What worries you?” His question elicits a hearty sigh.

“I want this business with Blackwatch and Talon over,” Hanzo confesses with a frown between his elegant brows. “Everything bequeathed to me is in danger, what I thought I was… I had to be,” Hanzo slurs, trying to put into words years of frustration, of fulfilling the role of heir and ringleader. McCree inhales carefully, scrutinizing how even in his weakness this man inspires danger and power. “I will be restless until Genji is safe, and this matter cared for.”

“An’ you get rid of little ol’ me,” McCree jests, trying to ease the gloomy mood. Hanzo snorts and that’s when the cowboy knows he is mildly drunk, gazing the remains of the bottle on the coffee table. He damn well knows Hanzo won’t tell him what has him rattled, not truly, not while he is a Blackwatch agent and Hanzo a crime lord. They are entitled to their secrets; a veil that threads dangerously between them, sometimes being the only thing that keeps them at bay of what they feel.

“I’m growing quite fond of you,” Hanzo teases, scooting closer and leaning his head over his arm, a hand on his bare knee. The wet hair damps his forearm but McCree throws his arm over his shoulders and brings him closer.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me, darlin’,” he jokes but then sighs. “If my boss finds out about this…” Not that he has to explain a mere affair with a suspect. Things get more complicated. He should’ve known better, and yet, he’d do it all over again.

“Do not let him find out,” Hanzo says, turning about to grant him a sly smile, hints of drunkenness glittering in his eyes, making McCree chuckle.

“Cuddle with me, sweetheart,” he flirts, accommodating Hanzo between his arms.

“I do not cuddle,” Hanzo says, snuggling comfortably against the warm frame of McCree.

“I won’t tell. Cowboy promise,” McCree whispers, crossing his heart with a finger. “You can smooch me too.” Hanzo presses a hand on his chest and glances up at him, his whiskey tainted breath not bothering McCree, more like encouraging him to lean forward and drag their lips together in a feather-like kiss. “Darlin’, -he pauses to swallow and stare into Hanzo, watching a knowing smile stretching his lips- I’m still falling.”

“Take me with you.”

A kiss muffles the gasp of surprise that leaves Jesse’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading ! The chapters are coming out long and I really hope they're not too boringヾ(｡﹏｡)ﾉﾞThough I wouldn't take a single word out of this. I love this OT3 way too much (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄
> 
> See ya'll next week ! ヾ( 〃ω〃)ｯ


	8. Rode hard and put up wet

Arriving late at work today isn’t an option, and McCree rushes out of his apartment only five minutes after Gabriel’s urgent call. Even though last night he slept like a baby alone in his own bed, tucked in by the memories of the Shimada brothers, he still carries the undeniable state of headiness of a sex hangover. He craves more and doesn’t know how to ask for it, fearing their touch and their smell will be permanently imprinted in his skin as the most alluring mark of their shared night together. And what a night.

McCree trips on the last step of the threshold, cursing under his nose and chastising himself for the inappropriate thoughts that lurk his mind way too often. Albeit he prefers to sport a cockstand than the dopey smile he wears whenever he thinks about Hanzo. A sigh leaves his lungs when he remembers how they fell asleep on the couch, cuddling -the corner of his lip twitches upward- and how later Hanzo woke him up with velvety kisses and a firm hand leading him back to the bed between sleepy smiles and an intimacy they both cherished and at the same time ignored for their own sake as though they were pretending to be someone else or just plainly themselves. _Let us have this_ , Hanzo whispered again into his ear as he fell asleep between them. He misses him already.

The merry thoughts vanish from his mind when he spots the commander waiting for him parked near his building, black beanie on his head, window rolled down to let the smoke of his cigarette escape and remarkable dark circles under his eyes. The telltale that he probably hasn’t slept tonight -a moody Gabe is exactly what he needs now-. McCree gets in and Gabriel starts the car.

“You smoking again?” McCree asks, picking up a box of cigarettes from the dashboard with only two inside. He slides one between his dried-up lips. “I will have to report to the strike commander,” McCree jests, lighting it up and exhaling with a purse of his lips.

“Oh yeah?” Gabe scoffs, finishing off the cig and putting it out in the ashtray. “Then I’ll double your night shifts since you barely take one lately.” Weary eyes scold him and McCree clears his throat, aware that he has been avoiding the task to spend more nights at Hanzo’s apartment.

“Point taken,” he says. If only Gabe knew what he’s been up to. “What happened? Have you even slept?”

“Some of us work more than others.” The sidelong from Gabe gives him a frisson that bristles the little hairs at his nape. “How’s the flu?”

“I feel good,” McCree mumbles, _and well fucked_ , he concedes to himself. A pang of guiltiness churns his stomach at having lied the other night to go to the Shimadas as though he was a teenager, but he will make up for it. He is here now ready to forget about Hanzo for some hours and get the job done. Gabriel takes the last cigarette and after a long drag, he speaks.

“We located Akande last night.”

“Finally,” McCree quips, knitting his eyebrows.

“We kept an eye on the hotel Hanzo Shimada hinted at and bingo, he was there,” Gabriel says.

“I told you they had good intel for us,” McCree says, trashing the ashes outside the window.

“They are helping us because the Shimada clan can’t handle Talon on their own. Don’t forget that.” Gabriel turns right on the next green light and McCree swallows, understanding his concern because as much as he wants to trust Hanzo blindly, he realizes there’s a serious conflict of interests impregnating the whole situation. As Hanzo said the other night, he is who he is and no matter what happens in bed it has nothing to do with their agreement. And above all, Blackwatch will want to take down the Shimada-gumi too after Talon, is not like they’re not dealing directly with criminals. The noises of the traffic fill the awkward silence reigning in the car. “The morning after you called in sick I went to check up on you,” Gabriel says in a husky voice, callous hands grasping loosely the wheel. McCree mutters something unintelligible. “Got you some chicken soup but -Gabe speaks slowly and deliberately- you weren’t home.”

“Yeah,” McCree groans, angry at himself and at how this stupid secret between them resembles a betrayal but at the same time, he isn’t selling out Blackwatch, his relationship with Hanzo may not be strictly professional -hardly professional, at this point- but they are doing a great job separating the two, or so McCree believes. “I was feeling better already, I went to get some meds and run some errands.”

“Errands?” Gabriel arches a questioning eyebrow.

“Grocery shopping and stuff,” McCree says, tossing the cig out of the window and chewing the inside of his cheeks. He’s thirty-five and the last time he felt like this he was seventeen and the neighbor’s daughter hid naked under his bed while he was trying to explain to his mother why he was in bed past noon on a Monday morning when he should have been at school. He could tell Gabe now, it’d be the perfect moment to confess he’s been fucking Hanzo Shimada since day one, -and his little brother, but he can spare him the details-. McCree chickens out, he cannot form the words, a lump claims his throat and he fears to see the shadow of disappointment in the eyes of a man he respects profoundly and who has taught him everything he knows. “Gabe,” McCree mumbles, he owes him that much. He has fucked up, and he has to man up and face the consequences. “There’s somethin’…” Gabriel’s phone rings, and he answers through the hands-free device of the car.

The ongoing conversation muffles the long exhale of McCree. Perhaps it’s for the best, now he can go back to his initial plan and confess his fuck up at a better time, with a whiskey in hand, when Gabe has had eight hours of sleep, and this thing solves itself once and for all. The commander hangs up and grants him a puzzled gaze. “Where are we going?” McCree asks, ignoring his previous slip up.

“We followed Akande yesterday, but we lost him. Remember the industrial area? Talon is there, I’d bet my ass.”

“Jack wouldn’t like that either,” McCree jokes and Gabriel snorts. “We’re gonna take a discreet look around then?” The prospect of a morning busy with Gabe cheers him up and makes him feel less bad.

“A team encircled the area last night,” Gabriel explains. “When there would be more chances to find them, but I want to see which units are closed during the day and which bring up more attention than usual.”

“Make sense,” McCree says. If Talon has settled in Hanamura and has taken enough precautions to hide, they’d work at night and keep the activity at a minimum during the day, where the Shimada-gumi’s eyes are wide open, especially in their territory. An idea crosses McCree’s mind treacherously: that Hanzo had allowed Talon to step into his domains well hidden from Blackwatch while they bust their asses to find them. It’d be easy for Hanzo to accomplish that, half the district is his or belongs to his allies. If they confirm Talon is there, it could look like the Shimada-gumi -Hanzo, he swallows- has been playing them all along. He dismisses the thought. It makes no sense, not when Hanzo has a clear agreement with Blackwatch and relies on their security. Gabriel takes him out of his dark place.

“Akande will come back to the hotel, eventually. I have a team there watching closely and we’re replacing some personnel with our presence. He’s a sneaky one.”

“And once we find him we bring the row to Talon and kick them out of here,” McCree finishes and Gabriel nods.

“As soon as I get some rest, I’ll be at the door of that hotel myself every damn night until we get something.” Gabriel glances at him with a death-threatening look and a sly smile. “And you’re with me.”

“Yes, boss. I’m guessing we’ll have a conference call with Jack later?”

Gabriel nods again, letting out a sigh of exasperation. “We’ll take a look and then to the headquarters. I need a shower and a bed.” Talking to Jackie gets harder every time, especially since there’s nothing much to tell yet even though they’re making progress, but according to the strike commander they’re wasting too much time and resources in a war that should be settled between Talon and the Shimadas, and then intercede to take control of the situation. “And if you tell him about the cigarettes…”

“I’ll keep that dry, boss,” McCree chuckles, winking at him.

“I’ll quit before we go back to Switzerland,” Gabriel says and McCree snorts audibly. “What was that?” He glares at the cowboy.

“Nothing boss, a sneeze,” McCree says, suppressing the smile and the guffaw trying to get out of his throat.

 

Hanzo wrinkles his nose when he sips the remains of his now cold coffee. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he exhales and tries to tame an unnerving headache menacing to ruin the rest of his evening. Their allies aren’t happy, to say the least, some of them demand him to accept Talon as a new asset, even the Elders refuse to discard the organization just yet, waiting patiently for the events to unfold themselves and, of course, choose the most beneficial option. And with no guaranteed backup from his own clan, the only thing he can do is to stick to the ruse.

He takes the little device Sombra provided and toys with it between his fingers, something so little could save years of work. If he succeeds and if Blackwatch acts fast right after. Hanzo puts it back in the drawer as an exasperated sigh leaves his lungs. Is it worth the risk? He wants to tell McCree about this crazy-ass plan, but he knows he cannot. This is his empire, his clan, his responsibility. His sense of honor won’t let Blackwatch or anyone else fight for what is rightfully his and his brother’s. Hanzo has to take care of this alone and secure enough leverage against everyone to do as they please, otherwise, they could lose everything. If he confesses his stupid plan now to the cowboy, he would jeopardize it or worse, misunderstand his own motives, but -Hanzo smiles to himself and reclines back into the comfortable leather chair- that is not the real reason. If he tells Jesse too soon, their liaison would be over, McCree would have to inform his boss and Blackwatch, where his loyalty stands despite Hanzo’s heart telling him he would never betray him. Regardless of what he wants, he wouldn’t put McCree in that position. Thinking about Jesse brings an unrivaled warmth to his heart, suddenly more confident that the events will unravel themselves to their benefit. They have to.

Another sigh fills the emptiness in his office, resembling the emptiness inside when the light of his life isn’t there and he has no idea when he will see McCree again. Perhaps it is better like this, so he can prepare for tomorrow night when he meets Akande. The leader of Talon rushed their encounter adducing he will have to be back in Numbani to attend some business personally, but that he would love to secure Talon’s position in Hanamura prior to that. It will all be settled soon, either he will have something to offer to Blackwatch for a long-term truce against Talon or Hanzo will have to convince half Hanamura to fight the foreign menace. Joining them is not an option, never was and never will.

The sun disappears between the neighbor skyscrapers and Hanzo gazes out the window taking in the beautiful pinks and oranges that give the city the illusion of a peace that no longer reigns. The lights turn on, spoiling the watercolor scene and reminding him of dark nights fulfilling the role of the heir to perfection even if that meant to assassinate in the name of the Shimada-gumi. Nights when he had been proud to shed blood carelessly, pleasing his father and the Elders in the process. Such a stupid kid he was, a puppet in the hands of others. His fist clenches on top of the desk. He should go home. Or he could call McCree. Taking his phone out of his pocket, Hanzo stands, ambling toward the wide windows and finding a message from Genji in which his brother excuses himself for tonight. Hanzo sighs, lonely indeed when he needs not to think about the poor decisions he takes in his life sometimes.

It is in brooding moments like these he regrets not having listened to Genji when his brother suggested eloping together, who knows where they’d be now? His phone chimes and a withheld smile threatens his lips. _I wish I could see you tonight,_ _darlin_ _’_. Insatiable as always after merely two days apart. Hanzo chuckles inwardly. _I have to work tomorrow night._ He shouldn’t, and yet again, this man takes the better of him. _Are you hungry?_ Hanzo sends a message and laughs at the obvious answer from the cowboy who assures him he is always starving for him. Just moments later, Hanzo wears a wide smile and his coat and leaves the emptiness of his life to meet a charming cowboy. Perhaps they are destined to walk different paths, but in the meantime, he intends to treasure his company, his body, and the exertions of their raw passion combined together.

 

Rikimaru is a popular ramen place in Hanamura and not at all what McCree expected when Hanzo sent him the address. He thought he’d be the guy to go to a sumptuous and expensive restaurant and not a noodle place half empty at these late hours. The cowboy waits outside, back leaned on the threshold, his trustworthy hat covering partly his face, and a cigarette burning impatiently on his lips. A cloud of smoke disappears into the night sky while McCree tries to get over a stomach curled in anticipation. He is glad that he had the courage to text Hanzo when he was about to drown himself in the remains of a bottle of whiskey alone in his apartment with the sole purpose of easing his mind. He remembers with a sly smile when not long ago, sleeping with a boner was his only trouble and now he still has that persisting issue, and also craves him by his side, his silken hair draping over his shoulder, the musky scent filling his nostrils, the noise of that throaty laugh reminding him that there is still hope for broken hearts. For him.

McCree would go to bed tonight alone and contented because it is not sheer desire and desperate arousal what brings him to Hanzo. It is so much more. He puts the cig out with the tip of his shoe and exhales a lungful of smoke into the cold night. _So much more_ , he curses inwardly, chastising himself at how stupid it is to fall in love with Hanzo Shimada, and yet there is nothing he can do about it now but to dread the day they part and mourn the nights he will not drench him in his sweat.

A black Mercedes approaches and he instantly straightens, dusting his hands in his jeans and walking near the sidewalk to open the door for Hanzo. The same car has taken him to his apartment many times now, and while he cannot help the wolfish grin when Hanzo’s hand grasps his own to get out of the car, he curses at how those black eyes smile at him and drown him in dark nightmares and the most vivid wet dreams. The flick of a smile shows up on Hanzo’s lips and then it strikes him. Hanzo could have told him to meet him at his place, to make this a booty call and nothing else and yet there they are, standing in front of a restaurant as any other couple would, hand in hand because he hasn’t released Hanzo and Hanzo hasn’t released him, matching smiles revealing unspoken truths.

“Darlin’,” McCree drawls in surprise. “Is this a date?”

“One could say,” Hanzo quips and forbids him of his hand but his cheeks turn a bright pink instead. “Though I would not know why _you_ would want to date _me_.”

McCree, with a boldness he wouldn’t have dared weeks ago, throws his arms around Hanzo and turns him about, hunching over him and welcoming him under the brim of his hat. “I’d be mad not to, sweetheart.” His romantic skills are rusty, casual and blatant flirting is his thing, but damn if he wouldn’t try his best for the enticing man glancing up at him with mischief in his eyes and smile.

“You are quite mad,” Hanzo says, narrowing his eyes and relaxing his arms over his broad shoulders, lowering his voice until it is nothing more than a sultry whisper. “I have tied you up to a chair, dictated your pleasure to my will, kept you on my bed for my own pleasure alone…”

“Mine too, darlin’.”

“… wrapped you in rope, and _you_ still want to date _me_?”

“As long as you keep doing all the above, yeah,” McCree breathes out the knowledge of his sins and presses his body lazily against Hanzo so he knows he arouses him merely enumerating their previous encounters. Hanzo fails to suppress a moan, standing on his tiptoes to find the mouth that slurs his pleasure in endearments mixed with dirty talk and the lingering taste of tobacco, but McCree traps his chin between his knuckles and stares intently at him. “I know there’s so much more, darlin’. You can hide from everyone else but not from me.”

“Fool,” Hanzo gasps, his covetous heart drumming at the rhythm the cowboy dictates and infuriating his inner self at how right he is. At how right Genji was too.

“Your fool.” McCree traps his mouth with the will of a lover and the hope of a fool, an utterly damned fool who melts in his arms. The doubts that clouded his heart and mind fade away in Hanzo’s presence, when he trembles and yields to his kiss, taking over quickly and showing no mercy until he leaves hankering, abused lips that will never have enough of him.

The kiss ends when they gasp for air, the cowboy reluctant, sparing pecks along his lips and tickling him with his beard. “After you,” he whispers into his mouth, turning on his heels while a caring hand presses on the small of Hanzo’s back.

“Charming.” Hanzo rolls his eyes and steps inside, glancing back briefly over his shoulder to catch McCree checking his backside a tad too shamelessly, and when he notices, he touches the brim of his hat and winks at him.

As Hanzo walks to their usual table followed by the cowboy, he surprises himself not caring anymore if this is a good or a bad idea. He lets McCree flirt with him, flirts back and remembers he was once a young boy who knew how to break hearts with a glare. But right now, he doesn’t want to break the one sitting across him on the table unlike his younger self would, he wants to cherish it, to treasure and warm it up in his chest as the precious thing it is. What is wrong with him? Hanzo covers his face with the menu -as though he needed it- and smiles fondly at McCree, who wrinkles his nose, trying to decipher his options until he gives up and reclines back on his seat, meeting his gaze over the convenient shield.

“You’re smiling, sweetheart,” McCree teases and Hanzo chuckles before biting back his smile.

“Allow me to order for you,” he offers.

“Whatever ya’ want, but I’m buying.”

Hanzo orders what he and Genji enjoy in this establishment since they were old enough to leave the family residence to carouse on their own. The nights out together ended up here until Hanzo’s responsibilities took over his life and severed his free time considerably. The waiter leaves a _tokkuri_ of sake and two _ochoko_ between them and Hanzo takes it with both hands, serving McCree until he almost overflows the cup.

“That sake’s not half bad but… I prefer a little bite to my liquor.”

“How long have you been in Japan?” Hanzo asks, leaving the bottle of sake on the table.

“Nearly two months, I reckon,” McCree says, sipping the cup and wrinkling his nose adorably at the foreign taste he has yet to get used to. “Am I drinking alone here, honey?”

“It is considered rude to pour your own sake,” Hanzo says with a sly smile and relishes in the cuteness of the red blushing the cowboy’s cheeks. Even though it is adorable how McCree hurries to take the _tokkuri_ and pleads for further instructions, Hanzo simply lifts the cup off the table with both hands and holds it for McCree.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.”

“No need to apologize,” Hanzo says, holding the cup until McCree mimics him with his own. “Kanpai.”

“Kanpai,” McCree says, drinking again, sweet and spicy notes reaching him as unavoidably as the memory building up deep in his mind and threading in his heart. This taste will always remind him of Hanzo, no matter how many years will pass, as soon as a drop of sake reaches his tongue McCree will think of him, of tonight, of the half-smile stretching his lips and the strand of hair disturbing his cheekbone. Gorgeous creature settling in his heart unannounced and tumbling over his world. And the worst part is that he’s there to stay.

Before he loses himself in the depths of his thoughts, McCree speaks. “This place isn’t what you’re used to. I like it.” Hanzo smiles, sighing in awe at the many times he has been here with Genji.

“It is our favorite ramen place, me and Genji’s,” Hanzo says. “We used to come here once or twice a week when we were young.” The memories overwhelm him and widen his smile. “Genji would insist on trying the spiciest ramen and we would both end up sweating and red-faced with a burning tongue for the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like him,” McCree chuckles. Sharing something so intimate, so close to the life Hanzo misses deeply and brings a different smile to his face makes McCree plainly happy. The longing in his eyes always tainted by a dark shadow of shared despair between the brothers lays there still. He now realizes how much they complement each other and how that dictated their relationship since the beginning. They needed to be more than brothers, love each other deeply and wholeheartedly to survive in an unkind world. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“It was not that bad,” Hanzo says, tilting his head and guessing the cowboy’s thoughts about his past and how that affected them. “I would have fallen for him in this life or any other, and though our circumstances were far from perfect, we learned to seek our own happiness.”

Even though it may seem like a rejection to someone else’s ears, McCree feels no rivalry against Genji, not after the other night, not after knowing Hanzo’s feelings could expand beyond conventionalisms and reach him too. _Take me with you_ , he hasn’t forgotten those words, not when they ease his heart and infuse him with hope. “How was it then?”

Hanzo chuckles lovingly, filling McCree’s cup again. “Meditation, breakfast, aikido, iaido, lunch, kyudo, and dinner. On repeat.” The cowboy drinks, wondering if the tales were true or not, if Hanzo is nothing more than the heir brought up by his father to hone his skills and become an assassin worthy of an empire. “Soon I realized excelling at those things would never be enough for my father and yet here I am, fulfilling his expectations.”

“You do what you gotta do, darlin’,” McCree says, knowing all too well what it is to lose yourself in expectations that extend far beyond who one really is. “Sometimes I wonder how deadly you are.” Hanzo’s devilish grin would have sent a frisson through his spine if they weren’t familiar with each other now.

“I could knock you over in two movements or less,” Hanzo brags.

“I’m six inches taller than you, sweetheart.” McCree arches a questioning eyebrow.

“And yet I would pin you to the floor with one hand and enjoy your defenselessness,” Hanzo snorts.

“Damn, you make it sound sexy, darlin’,” McCree breathes out in a hoarse exhale, both gazes full of lust meeting relentlessly across the table until two bowls of ramen crowd the space between them and break the spell.

Hanzo basks in the savory steam that fills his nostrils not so much for the delicious food but because of the memories it brings to his mind. Genji will pout when he finds out he came here without him. McCree struggles to grasp a slice of braised pork with the chopsticks while Hanzo devours skillfully the delicacies of the ramen and slurps loudly the noodles. He has to concede McCree that he has some skill and it’s a fast learner, mimicking his manners and humming pleasantly at the dish in front of him.

“If my mother saw you slurping like that, you’d earn a rap on the head,” McCree teases.

“In Japan, it is considered rude not to slurp,” Hanzo says with a smug smile right before he helps himself with the chopsticks and slurps away a handful of noodles. McCree laughs, his face red by the hot broth and the company.

“I’m gonna tell her that the next time,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How is your life in Santa Fe? Does your family miss you?”

“We talk on the phone,” McCree blurts out quickly. “They weren’t exactly happy that I joined Blackwatch.”

“How did _that_ happen?”

“I was a scoundrel, a good for nothing mixed with the wrong people, doing things I’m not proud of and it almost sent me to jail.” Hanzo arches an eyebrow in surprise. “Gabriel recruited me young, I mended my ways and look at me, I’m a respectable cowboy now.” McCree winks at him and finishes his cup of sake, filling Hanzo’s with a wolfish grin.

“Who would have thought you would get into trouble?” Hanzo teases in a funny tune and steals a throaty chuckle from McCree.

“My parents are happy as long as I’m happy.”

“You are a lucky man,” Hanzo says.

“I should visit more often,” he chides himself. Although he is contented with his Overwatch family, with his job -dangerous but fulfilling- and being one of the good guys, he misses his parents and does a poor job at visiting, partly not wanting to disturb his family daily life and also regretting how he isn’t the son they would have wanted. Deep in his heart, he knows they’re proud of him albeit not understanding why he would choose a lonely life like the one he lives.

“I lost my mother when I was very young,” Hanzo mumbles, interrupting his thoughts.  “I would give anything to see her again.”

“I should be a better son and not a moron.” McCree purses his lips thoughtfully. Their eyes meet anew with abandonment, this time over empty bowls and a half-empty drink. Their presence slowly replaces the sadness and regrets of their lives with a present that fill their hearts with unbridled joy even if that means ramen for two.

 

McCree never had a date like this; that the chemistry in the bedroom transferred to a dinner table was an unexpected surprise. Hanzo is indeed a pleasant fella to spend time with once the façade vanishes and the walls fall he is someone to turn mad over. Yes, that he knows him better than most means nothing, Hanzo is still a yakuza, a ringleader and he is the agent sent to pry in his business, but that only adds a notch of interest in their affair.

“Darlin’,” McCree hums against his mouth, bracketing Hanzo on the side of the car they should be getting into. The date isn’t nearly damn over yet.

“I have to do something and you will not like it,” Hanzo says, moonlit eyes staring into McCree and fogging him with confusion. His chest heaves against him and he cannot tell if it comes from nervousness or the wild kissing.

“What do you mean?” At any other time, he would have jested about a comment like that but something in the depths of the kiss and the revelation prevented him from it.

“Do you trust me?”

“Darlin’.” McCree’s body pressed further as the endearment that tries to break through the barrier Hanzo just raised between them.

“Do you trust me?” Hanzo repeats, urging an answer from him.

“Blindly. I told you.” Like a magnet, he pressed their lips together. “But honey, you need to tell me…”

“How convenient you brought your hat,” Hanzo says, slurring the words with lust and a raspy desire that bristles all the hairs at his nape.

“You’re not gonna distract me that easily, sweetheart,” McCree lies, wetting his lips.

“I want to wear it while I ride you.” The slight purse of lips from Hanzo while deft fingers caress the brim of his hat makes him grow hard and thick against him. A guttural growl reverberates in his throat while a cold sweat runs down his spine.

“Damn, you.” He takes his mouth again with urgency, muffling the hearty chuckle from Hanzo and replacing it with a thrust of his tongue. That man has doomed him, he wants nothing more than him, tonight, in that huge bed with so much useless room when all he wants is to rut on top of him until the morning light seeps through and then some more. McCree groans, a slow glide of his tongue parting the willing mouth he ravishes shamelessly; not on top, beneath that man, inside of that man. “Hanzo…” he grunts and opens abruptly the back door of the car, fearing bursting out of lust in the middle of the street. McCree clicks his tongue, love, not lust.

 

The inconvenient garments lay abandoned in a puddle of clothes without owner when they help each other remove the layers until there is nothing between them, nothing more than their heated skin, eager and breathing out the nerves of the days without the other. McCree gropes for his ass and digs his fingertips on it at the same time he groans into the kiss, lifting Hanzo off the floor and rolling on top of him into the willing mattress that receives them with a bouncing noise. Is this the so-called love everyone rambles about? As if McCree cares when he lacks ten hands to fondle the soft, tight skin of Hanzo, molded into muscles he is sure he doesn’t have himself.

Sweet moans leave Hanzo’s mouth while McCree makes sure his lips are red and swollen because of him. Kissing him is like a drug, and he is intoxicated beyond recovery. “First drawer on your right,” Hanzo mumbles, using the distraction to take a much-needed intake of air. The cowboy is heavy on top of him, pressing against his body in earnest, legs tangled in a lustful mess, stomachs brushing, chests heaving against the other, hard cocks trapped between them.

With a groan, and spit covered lips McCree hovers over him and opens the drawer, fumbling about until he takes the lube and goes back eagerly to him. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Hanzo chuckles, wrapping arms and legs around him, spurring him with the balls of his feet, hands threading on mussed brown hair and tugging until Jesse opens his mouth and he assails it with a taut tongue and too much desire sweltering between them. To hell with control, not tonight, not now, he wants the good old rush of unbridled sex he enjoyed not so long ago with Genji. Night after night, harsh, rough kisses, hurried sex, rushed orgasms. Hanzo pants without noticing, closing his eyes, he is there, in his bed in Hanamura ravishing Genji, the same emotions flood within him but now with Jesse. “Jesse,” he whimpers, gliding his tongue along the stretch of his lips, breathing the same heated air, their bodies rocking together in a gentle but intent sway.

“Goddammit,” McCree curses. “Are ya’ in a hurry?”

“I want you,” Hanzo whispers, hands traveling down the expanse of his back to the hard cheeks of his butt.

“And I’ve wanted you all my life and took me too damn long to find ya’,” McCree whispers, bracketing his head with both forearms, his body fighting Hanzo’s desperate wrestling to pull him down. Soft, feeble kisses outline his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, and Hanzo breathes in, treasures every single one while his common sense comes back, hoarding the bursting rush of sex and pleasure wanting to pour out of him back inside. He chuckles softly and McCree hums an unspoken question with a smile.

“You make me lose my mind, cowboy.”

“Good to know I can do that,” McCree says with a grin while Hanzo loosens his embrace, his inner thigh caressing his waist suggestively.

“Give me the lube and I will be ready for you in no time,” Hanzo whispers in a raspy voice.

“No way, darlin’,” McCree teases, leaving the safety of his arms to lie next to Hanzo, reclining nonchalantly his head on a hand and ghosting his fingers over his bare chest. “I’ll attend to that myself.”

“I should have trussed you up,” Hanzo purrs, lifting a leg over McCree’s side and resting it there while the other sprawls on the bed.

“But ya’ want my hands on you,” McCree teases, nuzzling at his nose, leaning slightly over him while his hand travels a slow killing path down his sternum. Hanzo breathes in a moan, arching into the soft touch of fingertips that isn’t nearly enough compared to what they had before. “Though I must admit I love when you tie me up.”

A sly smile taints his next words. “And why is that?”

“The ropes make me feel yours, darlin’,” McCree drawls, his fingers ignoring the prominent erection at his reach and cradling Hanzo’s sac instead.

“You _are_ mine,” Hanzo growls, bending his other knee to give him a better access while he hunts for his mouth with renewed thirst. McCree’s fingers stroke his rim and Hanzo moans at the friction, the calloused tips caressing him so intimately. It makes him feel defenseless in a way only the bindings did in the past. Who would have thought that those mad kisses and gentle touches would elicit this from him? If Genji were here, he’d laugh at his surrender and join in eagerly.

McCree grunts, distracting himself briefly to coat his fingers in lube and leaning down on his chest, allowing Hanzo to wind an arm around his back while he flicks his tongue over a perked nipple. He warms impatiently the lube between his fingers and suckles at the tip while silken fingers bristle the little hairs at his nape in a drumming caress.

“I let no one do this,” Hanzo mumbles, arching into his warm mouth and welcoming the now slick fingers in his ass. He hooks his leg by the knee pit and yields to the enticing touch.

“I’ll be gentle,” McCree says, dragging his lips over his skin, lapping and kissing with hunger while a finger slides inside his heat. McCree curses under his nose at how tight he is, knowing he will have to spend awhile down there before he can slide home. But he is an attentive, caring lover, and he intends to show Hanzo exactly that.

“You could fuck me now and I would not complain,” Hanzo teases, rephrasing his words their first time together and making the cowboy chuckle while he grits his teeth on a sensitive nip. He adds another finger, tugging gently along with the other, stretching the muscle with a movement of his wrist. Hanzo’s smugness disappears at the first whine, his body unconsciously arching into him, into the unpleasant stretch that he hopes recedes soon. And yet, drown in his impatience, the cowboy is gentle, the short thrusts of his fingers ease the discomfort, the soft peck on his nipples distract him. He’s too kind, wasted upon the soul of a killer.

This kind of gentleness gets to him, usually Hanzo shares this with Genji and only him, his lovers mean nothing, relationships mean nothing, but him, Jesse, he has wrecked all his walls, since the very first grin to the very last stroke of his tongue on his body, and now there’s nothing between them. Hanzo relishes it as the rare occurrence that it is, feeling the red come up his cheeks at how he doesn’t care what happens tomorrow, if he will wear a broken heart for the rest of his existence, craving his body and his touch in meaningless lovers… they’re together now.

“Are ya’ blushing, darlin’?” McCree teases, a wolfish grin defying Hanzo’s glare that is definitely less intimidating when his cheeks are flushed in pink. “I’m just picking on you, sweetheart. I ain’t seen nothing more beautiful than you like this,” he praises, nuzzling on the crook of his neck, shoving his fingers deep inside him, reveling in the clenching ass around him. “Let me love you how you deserve.” His own words tighten his heart, and with the sole intention to hide from them, he trails kisses down Hanzo’s chest until a demanding hand tugs at his hair and pulls him up again.

Those black eyes leave no place to doubts or regret. “Kiss me.” A command, one that he will dutifully follow for the rest of his life when asked or not. He thrusts his tongue inside Hanzo’s mouth in the same rhythm his fingers fuck him, unhurried, languid, wet, messy, and suggesting the slow fucking that he wants to punish him with right after. Too bad Hanzo’s plan includes a ride where he will handle everything. Hanzo is so soft and pliant it surprises him, accepting his kisses, melting into them and into his fingers. McCree knows he is a tender and caring lover but he is overwhelmed, the control in his hands, Hanzo at his mercy. He grunts and bites his lower lip, stealing the most toe-curling noise from Hanzo.

His need for him drives his mouth down his throat, biting gently at his skin and dragging his tongue down to his toned stomach. McCree slides down his body, his left hand cupping his ass and lifting his leg over his shoulder. Against his will, he escapes Hanzo’s fingers which struggle to entwine into his hair, and spreads his thigh, sparing kisses while he takes in the view of his stretched ass engulfing his fingers. He adds another just to see the abused muscle yield. Hanzo moans at the lingering burn down his body, his foot caressing the expanse of McCree’s back. His skin his hot, strong, flexing muscles working for his pleasure alone.

The furtive kisses extend to his balls and Hanzo wrinkles the sheets with one hand while the other brings his thigh close to his side, eager for more while he unabashedly spies behind hooded lids and catches a glimpse of a wolfish grin more predatory than reassuring inspecting the three fingers breaching him so wonderfully. He exhales a wishful moan, a loud plea for more that McCree fulfills when he mouths at his sac, sucking and kissing, balls tight and ready for the cowboy.

“So damn pretty, darlin’,” McCree mumbles, swiping his mouth up to the cock standing for attention right before him.

“Your mouth, cowboy,” Hanzo gasps.

“I thought you’d care for a reminder…” McCree teases, watching a sly smile stretch Hanzo’s lips while he lets his tongue out to lick the underside of his cock. He releases Hanzo’s leg to crawl up, his fingers thrusting inside him unhurriedly while his mouth follows the gorgeous length, twirling his tongue on the tip to trap a naughty droplet and taste Hanzo.

“Yes,” Hanzo moans, his hand finally succeeding and mussing his hair, encouraging his actions. “Take me in your mouth.” McCree shoves his fingers deep, curls them upwards and with a loud growl helps himself with a hand and swallows shamelessly half his cock.

Hanzo has been there before, trapped by the suckling force of McCree, in the liquid heat that is that sinful, filthy mouth. There is nothing he wants more than this; than him, than to shoot his load into that willing mouth while it ripples around him in a perfect alluring tempo directed by his lust. McCree takes him inch by inch, bobbing his head and pressing tightly his lips around him to create that wonderful vacuum that sucks him in earnest. “Oh, Jesse,” Hanzo moans, his name on his lips sends a rush right to McCree’s neglected cock. The cowboy hums with urgency, his fingers fumbling and not reaching where he intends to, only stretching and smoothing the way for his cock. Meanwhile, he fucks the bed, hips rocking and pushing uselessly against the bedding.

He cannot wait to bury himself inside him, to fuck him as desperately as he has wanted since those onyx eyes flooded him in a spiral of lust, want, and sex games that twisted his heart into loving him. McCree swallows his cock like the starving man he is, brushing the underside with a soft, twirling tongue, swaying suggestively over his shaft while his mouth keeps him in, drags him to his throat and coax little whines first and then needy moans of more, of his name on his lips. Hanzo deserves to be loved, cherished, fucked and sucked, and McCree is the willing soul ready to worship his merits as much as his faults. A fool, he chides himself, enjoying the cock in his mouth and dragging the most unspeakable pleasure out of it, of him, of Hanzo.

“No, Jesse,” Hanzo begs, tugging desperately at his hair. It is too soon, way too soon, and his balls tighten at the sudden release, his ass clenches around him while his cock jerks and gets ready to shoot. Hanzo doesn’t want to come, not yet, his renewed control begs him for more, to stop. “Please!” he blurts out, so over the edge, he fears there is no going back to the pool of pleasure wanting to unfurl. His breath seizes and a loud helpless cry fills the room when McCree whisks him out suddenly, his firm cock bouncing on his stomach and his balls suddenly swathed by a warm, wet mouth.

The sweet frustration of a deaf climax invades him and robs a chuckle from him. Not even himself can take his pleasure to that limit only to stop. It’s not the thing you can do to yourself. Once the pleasure takes away the reason and your wits to replace them only with an animalistic urge to sate, to rut, and to come, there is no going back willingly. And he knows it all too well. If that wasn’t enough, McCree leaves him awfully empty as he crawls up his body, peppering kisses and love bites on his heated skin while his hoarse voice keeps praising his beauty. “You learn too fast, cowboy,” Hanzo wryly defies with a ragged breath, unable to help the smug smile on his lips.

“A ‘lil retaliation, sweetheart,” McCree says, dragging spit slick lips over his mouth. “I know what you like, and I want to please you.” A kiss seals their lips and the luscious bargain of shared pleasure. McCree can please him, can drown him in lust and raunchy sex as much as he dares, and he’d want more. He thought tonight would bore McCree, that sex without ropes or Genji would disappoint him after what they have shared, but it works wonderfully, it flows as the marvelous kisses the cowboy pours into his mouth.

“You will pay for this,” Hanzo threatens, both his hands pushing on McCree’s shoulders. The cowboy laughs, yielding and rolling with him until Hanzo is on top, straddling him with a sultry smile and eyes glittering with wanton. McCree is exactly where he wants to be.

“Make me.” McCree winks, his hands roving the muscled thighs at his reach.

“Just one thing,” Hanzo whispers, leaning over him until their chests brush and their noses touch. “Where did you take your fucking hat off?” McCree snorts, kissing the tip of his nose and nuzzling at his cheek while he tries to remember not where he left his hat but more like where did he lose it on his way to the bed.

“I’ll fetch it for ya’,” McCree drawls, unable to help the pecks on Hanzo’s lips. “I reckon it’s somewhere on our way here…”

“You stay here. Do not move,” Hanzo commands, arching a dangerous eyebrow and leaving the bed and his skin unmercifully hast. McCree cocks his head in defiant interest until Hanzo’s ass disappears out the bedroom door and he sighs in awe. He has to thank his past self for getting into trouble with Hanzo because right now, heady and lust rushing through his veins he sees no downsides to this. McCree takes his cock in hand, stroking himself lazily and letting out a shudder and a moan of pleasure. Clear beads of pre-cum drip down his knuckles.

“I told you not to move,” Hanzo chides. A smirk stretching his lips.

“Damn,” he mutters a curse when Hanzo shows up at the doorstep wearing his hat. It’s slightly too big for him but who cares? McCree swallows and grips tightly his cock to prevent the urge to pump fast and masturbate shamelessly at the sight of him. Hanzo prowls proudly toward the bed, his erection bouncing firmly in the air while he climbs up nonchalantly on top of Jesse, straddling him once more. He seats back on his lower stomach, minding the thick cock resting on his backside while his hands map the expanse of his chest.

McCree knits his eyebrows, taking off the hat with one hand while the other pulls at the hair tie and undoes Hanzo’s low ponytail, freeing the black sea of his hair over his shoulders. The corner of his lip pulls upward at the gesture. “Gorgeous, darlin’,” McCree praises, putting the hat back on with a wolfish grin and his greedy hands back to fondle Hanzo’s thighs.

“You are incorrigible,” Hanzo purrs, pleased by everything he does or says. He picks up the discarded lube on the mattress and squeezes some into his palm, reaching back to wrap a hand around McCree’s hard cock, smiling mischievously when the cowboy mutters a curse and his hands knead his way to his ass. Hanzo smears the rest of the lube along his rim and slides easily two fingers inside, he is soft and pliant and so ready to get fucked that he moans loudly.

“Don’t be mean, sweetheart,” McCree croons, spreading his butt cheeks eagerly and sprawling his knees to accommodate Hanzo better. The Shimada ignores him, fucking himself with his own fingers and granting him a smug smile. McCree writhes below him, bunching their thighs together in the most perfect seat, luring that sweet, tight ass to engulf him whole.

“I do love your eagerness,” Hanzo teases, withdrawing his fingers and positioning the head of his cock right into his stretched ass. He takes a deep breath in and lifts himself to get enough leverage to plunge the tip of his cock in. “Fuck,” Hanzo moans when it breaches him, stretching him further. He knew his girth, has had him on his mouth, widening his jaw and filling him thoroughly, but this is more than he’s ever taken and Hanzo remains stock still. He will be sore in the morning.

“It gets thicker, darlin’,” McCree jests, moaning back and forcing his hips unmoving while Hanzo gets used to him. Hanzo pushes him further in defiant arrogance and whines at how easily the hard, throbbing cock slides inside him, the burning on his thighs comparable to the lingering burning on his ass. “Take yer time, sweetheart. I ain’t small,” he says with a ragged breath, scared to combust into sheer pleasure at how tight he feels around him.

“Do not brag,” Hanzo says with a sly smile. “I am sure I will praise the wonders of your impressive cock as much as my brother has.” Hanzo sinks McCree’s cock inside him deeper, whining at the girth, at the thin veil of sweat drenching his skin and an oh-so-missed feeling of fullness.

“I sure miss the wonders of yours, sweetheart,” McCree says, licking his lips at the enthralling sight that is Hanzo taking him so well, so willingly, sitting on his lap and impaling himself with his cock. His cheeks flushed, his skin glistening and his eyes hidden behind dark lashes and hooded lids. No matter how many times he admires him, Hanzo is mesmerizing, and he is besotted beyond reason. As soon as he is sheathed deep and Hanzo stills, tense and hoarding him all to himself, McCree breathes out, tries to put out the sweltering in his loins and distracts himself soothing his lover. He maps Hanzo’s chest with warm hands, cupping his chest and circling his thumbs over his nipples while Hanzo braces himself on his stomach.

McCree touches him all over, relishes in the warmth emanating from his skin, on the dragon ink along his arm that he’d swear has moved menacingly following his hand, on those shallow breaths and tentative movements that grind their bodies together. “You are thick,” Hanzo teases, more confident now, stretched by him.

“Ready for your ride?” McCree drawls, leaning up on an elbow, his other hand kneading Hanzo’s ass greedily and his mouth opening wide and closing around a mouthful of flesh around his nipple. He latches on it and steals a needy moan from Hanzo, followed by a gentle sway of hips that glide him inside and out of him.

Hanzo notices a spurt of pre-cum leaking from his cock into McCree’s stomach and tugs at his hair to try to stop that filthy mouth to curl his stomach in a knot of pleasure. “I am the one riding,” Hanzo growls, pressing a hand forcefully on his chest and pushing McCree back into the pillows while the other reaches back and supports him on his knee. Spreading his knees further, Hanzo settles himself ready to fuck him.

“Goddammit.” McCree’s hands grope for his ass and dig his fingers on it.

Hanzo’s smug smile puts his heart to a halt and then a racing beating when he adjusts his cowboy hat, touches the brim just as McCree does to greet him and begins a suggestive swaying of hips that starts shyly but soon turns into the sexiest fucking thing he has ever witnessed in his life, much less bouncing on his cock. McCree is sure he’d get a hard-on every time he wears that hat now, every time he remembers how Hanzo rocks his hips in an increasing tempo, fucking himself with his cock, changing the angle as he pleases, his cock and balls brushing his stomach. Hanzo arches his back, tracing circles with his hips and pushing into his cock looking for that spot. The ravishing sight dries his throat and McCree, determined to help, bucks his hips up, shoving himself inside Hanzo even more, meeting the exhausting rhythm with a slow rolling up he hopes puts pressure and fills him how he deserves. “Oh, yes! Jesse!” Hanzo moans and bites back another throaty whimper.

Soon Hanzo is flushed and flustered, riding hard his pleasure oblivious at how bedazzling he is, at the spectacle McCree takes in and imprints in his skin and mind as the most truthful belief would. Forever. “You’re so beautiful,” McCree groans, following his urgent lead and the swinging of his hips, unable to do nothing more than surrender to Hanzo.

“Am I doing it right, cowboy?” Hanzo brags, holding himself for dear life to the cowboy’s leg and chest to keep this relentless pace.

“Perfect,” McCree mumbles. “You’re riding me mad.” Hanzo chuckles before the tightness coiling inside him takes over, and he moans, overwhelmed by how he is letting everything free like he hasn’t in years. Just for Jesse. This is a fantasy he wouldn’t let slip through his fingers.

McCree curses under his nose at the noises Hanzo pours into the room, and he wraps a hand around the impossibly hard cock that bounces in his stomach. Hanzo blushes under the brim of his hat, mouth agape, eyes closed, frantic movements plunging his cock balls deep and trapping him there. McCree knows Hanzo is close and strokes him into a loose fist, eliciting a loud moan that sounds like his name. He’s the luckiest man alive, loves every side of Hanzo, in control and bossy or just like this, free, bearing his soul and heart into this mad fucking that is a gift, a demonstration of trust he treasures as his own.

“Jesse,” Hanzo moans, spilling himself unannounced with his name on his lips. His climax takes over in a violent shudder that rushes through him like a lightning bolt, painting McCree’s chest in white spurts of hot spend. He came unwilling, surprised, embracing his arousal and surrendering to it instead of holding it back. _Fucking cowboy_. Jesse strokes him through it, milks him dry and watches in awe how much more gorgeous he can be in the afterglow of his orgasm. Hanzo is the image of pleasure itself, panting, trashing his head back and losing the hat while his ass clenches around him and his cock twitches and softens in his hand.

“My sweetheart.” McCree thought Hanzo’s embodiment was to lure him to the cliff and hold him there to his heart’s content, but it’s so much more than that. His lovemaking is full of the many things that make Hanzo who he is, possessiveness, passion, unrestrained control to his will, things you wouldn’t find in meaningless lovers, things he never thought would experience in his life and Hanzo has shown him. Heaven and hell meeting in this same glorious bed.

Hanzo falls slack in his arms, not minding the mess between them, McCree’s hard, un-spent cock still shoved inside him. They melt in a languid, wet kiss, his tongue parting his lips and intruding to stroke his own. Hanzo hums contented and sated, smearing his cum over McCree’s stomach with his fingers as a wide, smug smile stretches his lips. “I will clean you up in a moment,” he purrs.

“Ya’ ain’t leaving the bed, darlin’,” McCree grunts, bucking his hips up to plunge himself there and rolling them so he hunches over Hanzo. Caged by his body, his cock slides deep inside him and Hanzo writhes, exhaling a luscious moan while he tangles his legs around him and his hands roam from his back to his ass, guiding the first thrust from the cowboy. McCree rocks his hips unhurriedly, so on edge that anything more than this will turn him into a sore mess too quickly. His mouth tastes Hanzo’s sweat, spare kisses, and bites while his hips pound into him. “Who would’ve thought you had it in you,” McCree teases and Hanzo digs his fingers bruisingly into his butt cheeks.

“Fool,” Hanzo mocks him, enjoying a tad too much being pinned to the mattress by the strong body of the cowboy, and meeting his gentle onslaughts with eagerness despite the shudder that runs through him whenever he brushes his prostate. “I want to do that again but with you tied up so you cannot rush my pleasure,” Hanzo whispers, his tongue outlining the shell of his ear until McCree cocks his head -never stopping the sway of his body into him- and snorts.

“Oh honey, you were so ready to come I merely walked you through it, besides,” McCree drawls in a husky voice that curls Hanzo’s stomach nice and warm. “You need no ropes anymore.” The cowboy nuzzles near his cheekbone and Hanzo’s heart shrinks, his hands travel up to cup his face and stare into those gentle eyes. An unspoken question tightens his throat, his eyes pleading for him not to speak anymore, not to say it out loud, not to doom them both to where they are already drowning. “You’ve tied yourself ‘round me, darlin’,” McCree whispers, meaning his words with a deep lunge that steals a moan from both willing mouths before they collide in an urgent kiss. It couldn’t be truer.

“Jesse,” Hanzo gasps.

“Don’t,” McCree grunts, burying his face in the crook of his neck, safe from all the things he doesn’t want to see in Hanzo’s eyes, at how he just scared him away when he hasn’t even finished fucking him. He’s a fool, a damn fool for believing his treacherous heart, for trusting that there were more when it cannot be, they cannot be. Hanzo said it clear and loud.

“Jesse,” Hanzo urges, whispering into his ear, trying to ease his hurting heart. “Fuck me, cowboy. Own me more than what you already do.” Too many things cloud his judgment when all he needs is to move, to sink himself in the depths of Hanzo and show him. McCree nibbles at his neck, heady from his scent, inhaling deep and muffling his insecurities with him while he thrusts faster, deeper, frantic, puffing his hot breath in his neck, sinking himself in Hanzo until he can no longer take it anymore. McCree yields in the tight cage of his body.

“Hanzo.”

His name dies in a desperate cry as he climaxes, spilling hot and long inside him, embraced by him, his cock jerking and releasing in sheer pleasure and fucking into him for as long as it stays hard and even then, he refuses to leave the safety of his body. Hanzo soothes him while deft hands caress his shoulders and pet his hair. Hanzo wants to tell him how much this means to him, how much he cares despite whatever stupid thing he blurted out of his mouth. It doesn’t matter anymore when this is happening when there’s nothing between them but sweat and shared love. Hanzo cannot lie to himself any longer, cannot deny the truths his actions vow for but his mouth refuses to articulate.

“My Jesse,” Hanzo whispers, luring the cowboy to meet his eyes so he can see what he cannot say out of cowardice. “What are we doing?” he asks, his gaze gentle, his lips stretching in a sweet reassuring smile, stealing one from the sweaty cowboy atop. McCree sees him.

“Falling, darlin’,” McCree drags the words over his lips, drowning in his soul. “Falling hard and long and never reaching the ground.”

“Do not let me go then,” Hanzo whispers.

“Never,” Jesse says and seals their lips together once more.

 

_Earlier that night_

Gabriel Reyes is a patient man even though his husband would say otherwise. He takes pride in his methods and how he carries Blackwatch and his agents. There are sacred rules you can break in certain circumstances, his book isn’t clean, but it’s _his_ book. But tonight, he cannot help the bile come up his throat and the queasy stomach at having missed something so important happening virtually under his nose. A leisure cloud of smoke leaves his lungs mixed with an exasperated sigh, checking the hour on his phone and cursing at how could he be so blind.

When he left Jesse at his apartment earlier tonight, he made a few calls from the car, lighted a smoke, and gave an uninterested snort when McCree went out again and took a cab only five minutes later. Without hesitating, struck by a hunch that has never failed him in the past, he followed him. And now, parked outside a local restaurant, he watches McCree holding Hanzo Shimada while they eat their brains out in the middle of the sidewalk.

“What the hell have you done, kid?” Gabriel mumbles. “And with who…”

He takes a deep breath, and then another, and tries to think about the many good reasons why he shouldn’t get out of the car and scowl at Jesse, take him by the ear and drag him to Switzerland himself. As he used to say, he’s not his father, but the kid has lost his goddamn mind getting involved with a criminal and jeopardizing the mission and everything they’ve been working on for the past months. Because he is sure as hell the Shimada is using him to his benefit and, though he wants to trust Jesse and his discretion, when the guy is drunk or in lust he cannot think straight. As the make-out session intensifies he starts the car and decides to leave him be. For now. But tomorrow he’s calling him up to work first thing in the morning and they’ll spend day and night trying to locate Akande. Betrayal is a strong word that crosses his mind furtively. _Never, Jesse would never do that_ , Gabriel huffs, annoyed at himself and the situation. As sure as his name is Gabriel Reyes he will get to the bottom of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was cheesy... I know, but.... *swoons* ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )
> 
> Thank you so much for all your sweet words and comments so far, they make me super happy every single time  
> ♡〜٩( ╹▿╹ )۶〜♡ We're close to the end, two or three more chapters and this will be my longest fic so far.
> 
> See ya'll next week!! ☆ﾐ(o*･ω･)ﾉ


	9. Down in the mouth

An annoying and persistent noise wakes McCree from the peaceful slumber he is immersed into, dreaming of dragons and ropes, and now awfully aware of the reality. He blinks in the darkness, the musky scent of Hanzo invading his nostrils as he nuzzles in a black sea of disheveled hair over the pillow, taking in as much as he can for the rest of the day. His arm rests under his neck, Hanzo’s breath steady and relaxed. Not his bed, not his usual loneliness. McCree takes a moment to snuggle into him, to sink in the beauty of a morning in the arms of a lover after a dream-like night. Another body writhes behind him and McCree straightens, turning about to see Genji burying adorably his sleepy face in the pillow. It takes the better of him not to snort because he cannot remember when or how did the little brat sneak into Hanzo’s bed. Not that he minds, he’d sleep peacefully between them every night if they let him.

The same annoying, muffled noise echoes in the room. “Shit,” McCree curses under his nose and stands, sliding his arm free from Hanzo and hovering over Genji to climb down the bed without disturbing the two brothers’ rest. More awake than a few moments ago, he recognizes the sound of his phone and rummages around the room for his jeans until he finds it in the back pocket. _Gabe, shit_ , he curses inwardly. Whatever his boss wants from him at nearly five in the morning must be important.

“Yeah?” McCree whispers, standing in the middle of the bedroom. “I ain’t whispering, I’m sleepy.” He rolls his eyes, his voice tainted by a morning harshness. “Gimme half an hour.” A deep sigh leaves his lungs, running a hand through his hair.

“It is too early even for me,” Hanzo says at his back in a low rumble, startling him until he presses his cheek between his shoulder blades and wraps his arms around him lovingly. It melts McCree’s heart how intimate they are with each other. He turns to face him, holding him tightly as a good morning wish and wondering if he is still dreaming or not because he cannot wrap his mind around Hanzo, the deadly and dangerous yakuza, snuggling into him first thing in the morning pursuing his warmth even out of the bed.

“’Morning, darlin’,” he whispers. “I gotta go.”

“Something the matter?” Hanzo says, glancing up at him with an adorable knot between his eyebrows.

“Duty calls,” McCree says with a sweet smile because even if he knew what it was about, he wouldn’t be able to tell him. “Can I shower here?”

“Please do.” McCree swears one day that sly smile from Hanzo will be his death as he cannot resist the urge to erase it with kisses every single time. He parts his lips with a shy glide of his tongue, relishing in the softness of them as Hanzo complies, pressing his body against him and gasping right when McCree stops with a needy grunt. “Does that mean you want me to join you?” Hanzo asks.

“Then I wouldn't make it to work, sweetheart,” McCree teases. “I’ve been sneaking around to see ya’ -McCree blushes like the most innocent teenager at the statement- I guess my boss has a couple of intense days for me.”

“I see,” Hanzo says, frowning and hoping the cowboy doesn’t notice his uneasiness at what awaits him tonight, at what he will attempt, but if Hanzo succeeds, it will be a won battle for Blackwatch and a declaration of war to Talon. They could never get so close to Akande as himself, and Hanzo is determined to take advantage of an opportunity presented.

“Darlin’?” McCree asks, cupping his face between his hands and tracing circles with his thumbs over his cheekbones.

“Jesse,” Hanzo gasps, unable to hide his feelings anymore after last night. Not when Jesse touches him like this, looks at him as though he cared, as though Hanzo is so much more than the heir, a crime lord, the things they always wanted him to be. Once you break a wall, you cannot build it again at will. “About last night…” McCree’s lips fall over his own once more.

“We’ll figure it out,” McCree reassures him and Hanzo sighs in relief, glad that the cowboy doesn’t ask for more but takes every single bit of affection as a precious gift.

“Then go before you feel the urge to come back to bed between me and my brother,” Hanzo teases, licking his bottom lip while he sneaks out of their embrace and ambles nonchalantly toward the bed, naked, huddling against Genji underneath the sheets while McCree watches him in awe. Leaving Hanzo’s bed early this morning will be the hardest part of his day.

“Jesse, come to bed,” Genji mumbles before Hanzo shushes him, and the scene brings a lovely smile to McCree’s lips.

A quick shower awakes him, not having a minute to spare, and when he heads out the bedroom’s doorstep he glimpses over his shoulder the tempting Shimada bundle in the bed, cursing at Gabe and his responsibilities for taking him away from a perfect morning that could have turned into _more than sex_ with Genji added to the mix. Chuckling to himself and his lustful mind, McCree leaves Hanzo’s apartment and the building through the back. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the first pink shadows tint the horizon and disturb the deep blue of the night. Another day arises in Hanamura, and though McCree misses the warmth of the sunrise in his parent’s farm, he will miss mornings like these too, a foreign city full of possibilities, the lingering scent of Hanzo entwined in his clothes, and the permanent imprint of his touch under his skin.

McCree calls a cab, already five minutes late, and falls into a pleasant state of drowsiness on his way to his apartment, staring out the window and letting his mind wander through unforgettable memories but committing to none. He knows once he is in front of Gabe he won’t have a moment of peace. Whatever his boss has prepared for him today it will keep him busy, that’s for sure, and he readies himself to stay away from Hanzo for only a couple of days, hopefully. He will tell Gabe, McCree convinces himself. He needs to pull this off his chest and accept the consequences of his actions but now he has something to tell, something stupid that will piss Gabe off immeasurably, but he loves him. A dopey smile claims his lips while he pays the taxi driver and gets out of the car in front of his building. He can leave the sentimentality aside when he tells Gabe, say that he’s fucking the guy and that’s it, but he knows what he feels, suspects what Hanzo feels and there is nothing that could bring them apart now. Last night with Hanzo was more than sex, it has always been. He is utterly in love and it is too late to go back.

Gabriel waits for him in one of the safe cars, sipping a coffee from a cardboard cup while a cig smokes itself in the morning waft. McCree curses for the ninth time today because he has no time to change his clothes and at least pretend he hasn’t spent the night somewhere else. His ruse goes to shit as soon as Gabriel eyes him.

“You’re late,” Gabriel huffs and beckons at him. McCree gets in the car with a too obvious aura of guiltiness he tries to disguise behind a loud yawn.

“’Morning, boss,” he mumbles distractedly.

“Same clothes from yesterday?” Gabriel arches a questioning eyebrow and stares at McCree until the cowboy opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. “Have you been fooling around, kid?” Gabriel starts the car and drives, recalling how last night, he spied on McCree -he feels a tad guilty about that- and Hanzo _romantically_ involved.

“I met a guy, a kind of non-planned thing,” McCree babbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“How did you meet him?” Gabriel pushes, waiting for a lie that does not come straight up his mouth which makes him think this is serious. He knows McCree since he was nothing more than a teenager, the youngest recruit he ever took under his wing, and not even once McCree has lied to him or acted disloyally. Something is going on.

McCree frowns at the little twitch he has seen in Gabriel’s smile, his heart racing and wondering if he _knows_ or if it’s just his treacherous mind playing tricks on him. “I’m gonna tell ya’ all ‘bout it when I figure it out, okay?” he blurts out, earning a snort from Gabe that scares the shit out of him. “Not now, I’d have to buy you a drink for that.”

“On that, we can agree…” the commander mutters.

Gabriel stops in a red light, arching a chastising eyebrow at him and cursing inwardly. The fucking kid is in love, he can tell. He knows the signs, recognizes the blush in his cheeks, the smile that creeps up his face when he thinks about him, how his recently washed and still damp hair frames the face of someone who has had little sleep but it’s freshly awake at five in the morning with that lush gaze in his eyes. The look he misses deeply in Jack at morning debriefings when they’ve been fucking all night, weary but sated. Whatever _thing_ they have surreptitiously going on means something to Jesse. Hanzo Shimada has him wrapped around his little finger, and right now, Gabriel wants to beat the guy up for playing McCree. “You know I care about you, Jesse,” Gabriel says, his gaze focused on the road so he doesn’t bark his stupidity into the cowboy’s face. “But I’m not your father.”

“I’ve everything under control,” McCree mutters, rolling his eyes and opening the window as he rummages for a packet of smokes in the car’s glove box to ease his rattled nerves. If it pisses Gabe he’s fucking some random guy, he’d be a thousand times angrier when he finds out _that_ someone is Hanzo Shimada.

“Breakfast?”

McCree breathes out in relief, anticipating the end of the conversation -at least for now-. “Yeah, I’m starving.” He takes a long drag that burns his throat and then curses how he cannot relish in Hanzo’s taste any longer because of it. McCree yawns loudly, this time for real and takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Your lovey dove kept you awake?” Gabriel jests and McCree chokes on the smoke, knowing the teasing has just begun and it’s still too early in the day. “Oh, and we’re on watch tonight, so I hope you got what you wanted last night.”

“Yes, boss,” he retorts, trying to stop the thoughts of Hanzo enveloping him with arms and legs as they fucked, exhausted, for the third time that night, just for the sake of it, sinking himself in his body and leaving his mark everywhere he could. Kisses, bites, sweat, bruises, drinking his moans directly from his mouth, his heat enveloping him whole in a wet mess. Lovey fucking dove, indeed.

“We’ll camp outside that hotel until Akande shows up and make sure we don’t lose him,” Gabriel says with a grin. “Our team spotted him there yesterday. We’re getting close.” Gabriel has all day to tease Jesse and coax a confession, he won’t take more grey answers for granted or turn a blind eye to this. And he is ready to send him back to Switzerland with a kick in his ass and a rap on the head.

 

Since they were very little, Genji and Hanzo shared a room, and they kept doing it as they grew up because most nights, a futon stayed perfectly arranged while they’d sleep huddled together in the other to prevent the nightmares and the loneliness of a grueling existence. The other’s presence was the only comfort, especially after their mother died. Genji couldn’t bear to sleep alone, even though their father tried to separate them to build their independence, according to him. Genji would sneak into his futon night after night. They grew up like this, sharing everything, they were equals, dragons, and the bond turned into feelings they didn’t understand but embraced as pure and real. How could something so true in their hearts be wrong? There was never shame in what they did, not in their first kiss much less in their first fuck, but they were smart enough to keep it to themselves. Genji had always felt safe with Hanzo, in the rapture of waking up pressed against his chest, cradled by his arms, and soothed by the beating of his heart.

Genji smiles, contented, his lips leaving feather-like kisses on his chest while he tangles himself in his brother. Hanzo is awake, he knows by the way he breathes, by how he caresses his back with warm hands and snuggles into him. “Where’s Jesse?” he mumbles. Last night, he came home late and entered his brother’s bedroom only to find them naked, half-covered by the sheets, and the room filled with the atmosphere of sex and lust all over. He tried his best not to laugh, and instead, took his clothes off and slid beside McCree on the bed, falling asleep almost immediately and reveling in his brother’s newly found happiness.

“He left early,” Hanzo whispers, kissing his forehead. “I should get up.”

“Not yet.” Genji holds him tightly, nuzzling at a convenient nipple at his reach. “Five more minutes.” He doesn’t mean it, his plan is to turn five minutes into an hour of sex with his brother, as he also attempted and succeeded often in their teenage years, making Hanzo late to most his morning classes. He had been moody lately, leaving the bed before he could try his luck, but since Hanzo shares the bed with McCree he is more than willing to indulge himself in this, not that it still won’t require a certain persuasion from his part.

Genji sneaks a hand between them, unabashedly traveling down Hanzo’s stomach until he palms him and fondles his softened cock. “Genji…” Hanzo warns, suppressing a chuckle but pressing into his brother’s hand a bit too eagerly, growing hard with every stroke of his silken hand until Genji can take him in a fist. He always loved waking up with a hard-on and an insatiable Genji taking advantage of it. Sometimes Hanzo would wake up at the verge of orgasm, his cock shoved in his brother’s willing mouth, or spilling in his hand. Hanzo thought he’d never had enough of his brother, and ten years later he hasn’t.

“Are you too tired for me?” Genji teases, caressing his nipple in leisurely laps of his tongue.

“Never,” Hanzo says, yielding to his touch and the coiling desire growing in him as the half hard cock growing hard and thick into his brother’s hand.

“Can I fuck him without you?” Genji says, his words tainted by mischief and wantonness.

“Yes,” Hanzo chuckles, thrusting gently into his hand to keep his own desired pace. “I share everything with you.” Hanzo whines when Genji bites harshly his nipple and squeezes his cock just right. “I must admit since the other night all I can think about is tying you both up to my heart’s content.” Genji’s moan echoes loudly into the room in a not-so-subtle approval of his words. “Why are you asking me this, Genji?”

“I’m not jealous, anija,” Genji mumbles as innocently as he can with a nipple between his lips. “I really like Jesse. We can be ourselves with him. I haven’t seen you this happy in forever.”

“But you are mine,” Hanzo growls, tilting his chin up to trap his brother’s mouth and kiss him madly, as though he knew how to do it differently when he loses his head for him with so little. “And something tells me he wants more of you too, of us together.”

“He’s so in love with you, anija,” Genji teases, staring into his brother’s eyes and reading how in love is Hanzo too, smiling mischievously and enduring the soft bite on his lower lip. “I know, I know,” Genji soothes, stroking him faster until a spurt of pre-cum lands on his thigh, keeping his torturing pace.

“I do not know where this will take us, sparrow.”

“That’s part of the fun,” Genji says with a mischievous smile.

Hanzo hides his face in the crook of his neck, fucks into his hand, embarrassed by how easily his little brother reads him, and how doomed he is if he cannot even hide for a moment his feelings for Jesse. It is too late. Hanzo Shimada besotted with Jesse McCree. Definitely burned by a hot, filthy cowboy in the end. Genji leaves his erection throbbing against his thigh while his hand kneads along Hanzo’s butt cheek. His brother bites him in a groaning protest until it turns into a moan when Genji’s fingers stroke along his ass. “Oh, he fucked you good, didn’t he?” Genji teases with a question that needs no answer when no late-night shower hid the remains of lube and poorly washed cum still in his ass. Two naughty fingers slide inside his tight, slick, hole, making room for themselves in short little thrusts until Genji sinks them to the second knuckle. “And you let him come inside you…”

“No more teasing,” Hanzo grunts, biting again harshly to muffle his moan of pleasure at the lingering burn and soreness from the exertions of the night before with Jesse. He would have let him fuck him again this morning for as long as he pleased. He moans at the thought of that impossibly thick cock splitting him and pounding into him orgasm after orgasm. McCree’s stamina surpassed all his expectations when he didn’t put a limit to it.

Genji thrusts his fingers in and out, following the sway of Hanzo’s hips. His hard cock brushes his stomach while Hanzo grinds his own against his thigh, chasing relief. His mind is crowded by thoughts of Hanzo bested by McCree, chest down on the mattress, red-faced and panting. He has seen him like that by his doing even though his brother’s preferences lay on top of him most of the time. “I love you, Hanzo,” Genji whispers, finger fucking him tenderly even in this awkward angle that leaves little range of movement.

Hanzo chuckles and trails a path with a wet tongue up his throat and chin until a slow glide parts his lips dutifully to slide inside his mouth in a lascivious assault. “Come up here. I want you in my mouth.” Genji has to bite his lower lip to suppress a needy moan. He loves Hanzo’s blowjobs and Hanzo loves having him in his mouth, dragging out of him moans and whines of pleasure as he suckles his cock masterfully.

In several often-practiced movements, Hanzo lies flat on his back and Genji straddles him, crawling until both his knees bracket his head. Hanzo hugs his thighs, pulling him closer with eagerness and drooling at the sight of his brother’s perfect cock in front of him. He darts his tongue out, flicking at the tip while his hands grope for his brother’s ass and push him onward so he can slide the head right into his wet mouth and suck gently.

“If you suck him like this, he’ll never leave us,” Genji teases, struggling with a shallow breath. He holds the headboard with a hand while the other rests on his own knee.

Hanzo takes him out with a wet plop, leaving a glistening trail down his cheek. “Perhaps I should blow you until you cannot take it anymore.” He drags his lips at the side of his cock. “Taking my time to get you there -Genji moans- and then…”

“Yes, anija, please,” Genji begs, taking his length by the hilt and offering it to Hanzo.

A devilish grin grows wide on Hanzo’s lips at his wanton brother. “You are a sweet treat, Genji.” His words die in a strangled moan from Genji when he engulfs half his cock, his intent suckling stealing a spurt of salty pre-cum right into the back of his tongue. He knows exactly how to turn him into a sore mess, how to suck and brush his tongue right on the underside of the tip, softly, gently, but so there Genji rocks into his mouth in a soft, slow fucking that makes Hanzo’s cock throb for the same treatment.

His hands knead and spread Genji’s butt cheeks, following the sway, swallowing more until Hanzo struggles to breathe through his nostrils with a cock deep down his throat. And he loves it, the slight choking sensation that then recedes when he gets used to it, how his cock slides in and out of his sucking mouth, harder, thicker and ready to shoot his load. Hanzo pushes him onward and keeps him there. Genji braces himself with both hands on the bars of the headboard, whining nonsense, fighting to thrust when he cannot; plunged deep inside Hanzo, his mouth rippling around him and, as promised, taking him to the brink of orgasm slowly but surely, building his arousal beautifully in waves of overwhelming pleasure. His balls are tight, his stomach curled into a ball of lust at the intense silky heat of his mouth, head trashed back and mouth agape unable to produce any moan as his breath seizes in his lungs.

Then Hanzo stops sucking, grips forcefully his hips and drags him out, his body too weak to fight it as Genji lets out a needy wail of protest. “No! Let me come,” he whines in the next lungful of air, but Hanzo chuckles and lifts his ass, scooting down until his mouth wraps around his sac, sucking with the same intensity, lapping and stroking and _teasing_. Hanzo revels in the soft whines and how tight and ready his balls are. He takes him out to speak, peppering kisses along the soft skin.

“I never said I would,” Hanzo mumbles, nuzzling at the hip joint to scent the lush smell of sex and Genji’s essence, muffling the next complaint with a harsh bite on his inner thigh, clenching his teeth demandingly, leaving indents and surely a bruise.

“Please,” Genji moans, his body slack and his cock hard and firm bouncing in the air.

“Lie on your back.” The little brat obeys so dutifully it steals a half-smile from his lips. Hanzo rummages for the lube from the nightstand drawer but a flustered Genji takes it out from under the pillow as a naughty smile dares to stretch his lips, handing it to Hanzo quickly. He bends his knees and spreads his legs to his brother, hoping for his fingers inside him fast and then his cock.

“Anija,” he pouts lovingly, just as he knows will melt his brother’s heart at the sight of him like this, so ready and willing to be fucked.

“Open yourself for me,” Hanzo smirks, smearing lube on his exposed ass, even pushing a slick finger inside briefly, prodding and relishing in the sweet moans from Genji when he leaves him awfully empty.

There is no use in fighting Hanzo’s commands. Genji hooks a leg under his elbow to help with the angle and thrusts greedily two fingers inside while Hanzo watches him attentively. His brother takes himself in hand, kneeling between his legs and pumping his cock in long strokes, tugging at the end, his skin enveloping the tip and then exposing a beautiful round purplish head that oozes pre-cum. Genji hurries, outlining the ring muscle, spreading and snatching his fingers and uselessly trying to push a third way too soon.

“Anija, please.” Genji’s fingers work deftly, soon he is soft enough to thrust in and out, his cock pooling pre-cum on his lower belly, mouth drooling at the sight of a muscled Hanzo working himself to the verge of climax and then relaxing once more in a tight fist. Genji can only guess his cock is as hard as steel and he moans desperately. “Fuck me, please.”

“I tease. You beg,” Hanzo growls, his hips bucking into his hand, his cock so hard and aching it takes all his self-control not to hunch over his little brother and fuck him fast and hard. He wouldn’t last like that, two harsh dips into that heavenly tight hole and he’d be filling him with his cum. If Genji wanted morning games and teasing, he is getting exactly that, but perhaps the other way around.

If his brother wants him to beg he will beg. “Hanzo, please. Don’t leave me like this,” Genji moans, his fingers opening his ass with expertise and his eyes fixed on that pulsing cock. “Fuck me.”

“Should I?” Hanzo says with a mischievous smile, cock in hand, eyes glittering with lust and desire but holding everything back.

“Please!” Genji wails, wanting to be filled by him more than his fingers. The teasing has backfired as it usually does with Hanzo. When Genji believes he has the upper hand, he ends up begging and being a needy wanton for his brother. And he loves their little games, except when he cannot take it anymore, when he is bursting with need and desire and sees no end to his torture and no release to his unleashed pleasure.

Hanzo removes his hand and Genji lets out a strangled sob. Suddenly, Hanzo’s fingers are in him deep, so deep he cradles his balls with the palm of his hand while he just pushes them in, never leaving him, drilling his fingers into him in short breath-taking thrusts that make his cock stand firm in the air. “More!” Genji whines, his cock twitching as Hanzo puts pressure on and off his prostate.

His brother lets out a hearty chuckle, taking more pleasure in his desperation than anything else and it pisses Genji off, so much he covers his flustered little face with both his arms and huffs, angry but yielding to those fingers intruding his ass. “You started it, Genji.”

“Please, anija,” Genji pouts adorably.

“You are too beautiful for this world,” he praises, withdrawing his fingers from him. “Turn around.”

As the most obedient lover, Genji lies on his stomach, whining softly when Hanzo straddles his hips. Genji sobs in relief. Hanzo teases between his butt cheeks, a telltale of what he will enjoy soon stretching him. His own erection jerks in sheer pleasure at the thought, trapped between his body and the bedding. Cold lube slides down his rim and Genji flinches, arching his spine to get at least some friction from that cock _still_ teasing.

Hanzo spreads his butt cheeks greedily and Genji gasps, ready for it, for the moment when his brother plunges his cock inside him, but it never comes. Hanzo rests his hard cock between his cheeks, swaying hips chasing a slow glide back and forth while his fingers dig crescent moon shapes on his skin. “Anija,” Genji sobs, burying his face in the pillow.

“I thought you liked teasing, sparrow,” Hanzo says with a smirk tainting his words.

“You’re so mean,” Genji pouts, pushing back into the pulsing cock stroking his stretched hole but never breaching in.

“Is that so?” Hanzo grunts, not knowing where does he find the strength to not fuck his brother in earnest. He groans again, speeding up his movements, fucking between his cheeks, his balls tapping his backside in every lunge, his brother writhing below him desperately and uselessly because he pins him in place. Everything is too much, the fact that he can get off from this, from his defenselessness, from the frustration that must be the gentle brushing Genji gets on his cock from the bedding, not nearly enough to make him come but torturing him all the while. “I own you,” he growls.

“Anija, please!” The pillow muffles his cry but not the ragged breath of Hanzo behind him, his thighs securing him there while he shamelessly masturbates on him, smearing lube all over his rim, gripping demandingly his cheeks to squeeze his length. Genji whines, hoping one of those thrusts sink his brother into him, but he’s awfully empty and frustrated.

A few frantic glides between those puffy cheeks has Hanzo spilling himself thoroughly. He comes with a loud, satisfying moan and a mischievous smile at the little whine from Genji and the hot gush of come that slides down the small of his back and into a side. Even then Hanzo rocks into him, spent and delighted by the sight.

“Fuck you,” Genji snarls, glaring at him over his shoulder with rosy cheeks and watery eyes.

Hanzo shushes him, manhandling his unwilling body until Genji lies on his back over his mess and closes his eyes, biting his lower lip. It wouldn’t be the first time Hanzo stands and leaves him be, hard and frustrated, or worse, that he jerks him off briefly only to stop in the right moment when he’s coming and ruin his orgasm. He is so caught up with his thoughts that he doesn’t notice how Hanzo spreads his thighs wide to admire him, how he scoots closer, bringing him over his own thighs, kneeling on the bed, hunching over him. He even misses the wide smug smile on his brother’s lips until Genji opens his eyes wide in surprise at the tip of his cock breaching in. Hanzo sheathes in a leisure swing of his hips, swathing his brother with his warmth, his love, and his surprisingly hard cock.

“You’re not hard enough,” Genji says, pursing his lips at the blatant lie and spreading his legs further. Hanzo helps him, hooking one on his elbow and dragging his smile over his swollen lips.

“Should I pull out and leave you to fuck yourself?” he teases.

“No!” Genji sobs, throwing his arms around his brother’s neck to keep him close.

Hanzo fucks him, there is no need to go slow, so he thrusts in and out of him fast, intently, never leaving his body for too long before he bottoms out again. Genji’s so tight he should have spend more time working him open, but he makes room for himself, trapped tightly by Genji’s ass. He relishes in his brother’s moans, sliding his free hand between them to wrap around his neglected erection. Genji’s cock is hard, damp with pre-cum and engorged by the endless teasing. “I will get harder in a moment,” Hanzo says, pushing in and pulling out, his cock ready to spill again and give the brat what he wants. “I always get hard for you, Genji.”

“More,” Genji gasps, moaning at every single onslaught from Hanzo and now wishing his hand would move to end his sweet torture. He feels like crying from frustration, not sure if his brother has finished with him yet or not when two fingers circle his hilt forcefully. Genji wants to come around Hanzo, around his hard cock while he fills him to the brim, owns him as he always does.

“I love you more than anything,” Hanzo whispers, his lips brushing the shell of his ear at every word while his hand pumps his cock in the same rhythm he fucks him.

“I love you, anija,” Genji mumbles, holding onto him for dear life, finally safe, sound, surrendering to his brother, to Hanzo, to the pleasure finally unleashed freely. Genji clings to him, stock still while he endures the slams, that cock sinking repeatedly into him, the lingering burn that adds to the pleasure curling up his stomach. “Please,” he sobs once more, waiting for Hanzo.

“Come for me, sparrow,” Hanzo grunts, keeping his relentless pace, his cock twitching once more before Genji clenches around him, crying out his orgasm. Hot come drips down his knuckles between them. Hanzo fucks him through it, in short thrusts that pin him to the mattress, his abused ass still fluttering around him and milking him dry. Hanzo comes again, his orgasm washing through him in a shudder while he sweats, and groans, and falls slack on top of his little brother.

For an otherworldly moment, nothing else matters but their breaths heaving in unison, Hanzo nuzzling at the back of his ear and Genji roaming tender hands over the expanse of his back. His brother is a prick, but he loves him regardless, and after all the teasing, he has had a mind-blowing orgasm. Genji sighs and Hanzo hovers over him and smiles while his brother meets his gaze with forgiving eyes.

They need no words either, a shared chuckle gives place to languid kisses, wet and messy while they roll until Genji is on top of Hanzo, peppering kisses along his collarbone while his brother squeezes his ass, still sticky and messy by his own doing. “We should shower,” Hanzo says, kissing Genji’s forehead lovingly. Though what he would want is to stay in bed with him for a few more hours, a nap, forget what he has to do tonight while he buries himself in the safety of his brother’s body. Hanzo wishes the cowboy would be here too, it’d make it easier, or perhaps harder.

Genji removes a strand of hair stuck on his forehead by the sweat, admiring Hanzo’s beautiful features and how alike they are, it is like looking himself in a mirror on the outside and his other half on the inside. “About Jesse…”

“I love him, Genji,” Hanzo says, a deep sigh leaving his lungs as though a weight has been lifted from his chest. “I haven’t told him.”

“Hanzo,” Genji says with the sweetest smile of all. “I know how you feel, I always know.”

“Do not tell him,” Hanzo warns. “It would be a mistake, loving him is a mistake.”

“I believe he is genuine from the inside out, from the cowboy hat to the kisses he gives you. He can’t help it.”

“I do not doubt his cheesy feelings,” Hanzo quips but the half-smile stretching his lips betrays him. “I doubt they will last.” His heart aches at the thought of giving in McCree and then watch impassibly how he grows tired of him, bitter for what Hanzo is and cannot be, for compromising his life, his work. Lust fades away quickly, Hanzo will keep him interested for a while but eventually, McCree will forget him and move on and he will be left with a broken heart and a new loneliness to get used to. They don’t even live in the same country, despite the chemistry between them they have nothing in common except for… their love. And love doesn’t last, not for him, only with Genji. “Why will he want to be with someone like me?”

“How not to be in love with you, anija?” Genji teases, nuzzling against his cheek to make him smile. “He’s fallen hard and you can’t ignore it.” Hanzo snorts at how right he is. “I want to be with you all my life, I like Jesse, he makes you happy -Genji pauses- he makes me happy because of that.”

“Getting romantic advice from my little brother…”

“I’m just saying it doesn’t matter who you are or who he is.” Genji kisses his lips, easing his rattled mind, his hurting heart. “What I saw this morning wasn’t a one-night stand waking up in a stranger’s bed. You two have something and I won’t let you ruin it.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Die from boredom with a shitty sex life,” Genji snorts.

“The cowboy could make up for that,” Hanzo teases, earning a nudge on his ribs.

“Just tell him, Hanzo,” Genji says, exasperated. “He’ll kiss you madly and fuck you senseless. To hell, if it lasts a year or twenty, you’ll always have me.”

Hanzo chuckles, holding his brother close to his heart and praying to never be far from him because he wouldn’t know how to do it. And what scares him the most is that right now, he wouldn’t know what to do if he couldn’t see Jesse again. “I will think about it.” A broken heart would hurt less than a life without the cowboy though both will shatter him to pieces.

“You tell him or I will,” Genji threatens.

“You will not do such a thing!” Hanzo groans, rolling on top of him and shutting his words with a kiss full of madness, of hope, for a love he treasures and wants to be reciprocated, a love so alike what he feels for his brother that shrinks his stomach as the highest cliff would and, at the same time, goads him to jump, to fly, to _fall_...

 

It’s been a long, insufferable day in which McCree has filled more reports than in all the previous years working for Blackwatch. Whenever he finished one, Gabriel handed him another, and goddamnit the amount of paperwork the strike commander who isn’t even here requires. McCree likes simple, easy things, you shoot or you don’t. Why fill a twenty pages report about it? He can only imagine how many of them would he need to explain about Hanzo in case Gabriel wants to reprimand him officially for it. He’ll spend months caged in an office behind a desk -he swallows- goodbye field agent McCree. At the third pot of coffee -because they didn’t have lunch either- and a pile of folders later, he downright wants to bark at Gabe that he is fucking Hanzo only to shut him up, or at least start a row that will keep him away from this shitty work office.

About five o, McCree thought he’d be finally free, but Gabriel dragged him to the city. At least lunch happened, and he wolfed down his food as the starving man he is but he already suspected his working day was about to start now. The team in charge of patrolling the hotel reported there was nothing amiss. You could smell Gabriel’s frustration at having lost Akande after a promising finding the other day. A pang of guiltiness hits McCree, if he hadn’t been so busy selfishly thinking about himself perhaps they’d have progressed further. It is hard to focus on why they are there when he is so close to the man assigned to him.

Hanzo puzzles him, not to mention how he cannot think straight around him. McCree battles between Blackwatch’s interests and his own. When he isn’t around Hanzo, his head tells him to focus on his job, on Gabe and the mission; they’ve made so much progress with the information the Shimadas share about the city and Talon that it’s even hard for Gabriel not to see them as a valuable asset instead of an enemy. And yet he knows what he has done -is doing- is wrong. Their convenient arrangement to fuck seemed harmless until he fell in love, he should have seen it coming, he should have stepped away when he could, far, far away from that man… but then his heart aches just at the thought of not holding him between his arms. This isn’t about getting a good fuck anymore, about losing his head and distract himself from all the things that went wrong in his life over the years, Hanzo Shimada is the best thing that has happened to him and he cannot let him slip through his fingers so easily.

Now, at almost sunset, Gabriel and McCree camp outside the infamous hotel, sipping more coffee -which makes McCree suspect they will spend the night out here- and smoking cigarette after cigarette. They settle into that peaceful state where McCree feels safe, sharing long comfortable silences, jokes, puns, and anecdotes about the old days and how Gabe is an old soldier without a purpose after the first omnic war. It is also now when McCree enjoys the unbridled warmth in his heart, the joy that chases him night and day just by knowing he can go to Hanzo’s apartment, lift him and kiss him madly, and he will steal the sweetest smirk from a man that not long ago he thought wasn’t capable of smiling.

“Tell me about your guy,” Gabriel says, glancing at him with a too knowing gaze. “Must be something else if he makes you smile like that.”

McCree blushes, clearing his throat and uselessly trying to banish the smile from his lips. “You wouldn’t believe it.” A snort comes out unannounced.

“Try me,” Gabriel says.

“He’s not my type,” McCree babbles as a half-smile creeps up his face. “I thought I could keep it casual, ya’ know? But then I…” - _fell in love-_ “… liked the guy, maybe a bit too much and it got out of hand.” McCree takes a sip of his coffee and then traps a smoke between his lips.

“That sounds right up your alley,” Gabriel says, narrowing his eyes. “What about him? Does he _like_ you too?”

“It ain’t that simple,” McCree says and takes a long drag.

“Enlighten me,” Gabriel mutters, his patience escaping through the window as the smoke from McCree’s cigarette.

“I know I ain't supposed to do this while we’re working, okay?” McCree barks, annoyed by the lies, the situation, and the questions. “I fucked up big time and you’re not gonna like it, Gabe.” McCree runs a hand through his hair, mumbling curses while his heart races against his better judgment. He’s about to tell him, he has to, he doesn’t want to lie to him anymore, he feels like shit for doing it and he has fought too hard to become a better man to throw it all down the drain because he fell in love with the yakuza he was supposed to arrest.

“Watch your tone,” Gabriel says, pushing, wanting to break him. He trained him, he knows when McCree is about to snap and, despite what he believes he knows about Hanzo Shimada, this is too important to Jesse; if he’s so uneasy about it, ready to jump, obviously conflicted. Silence fills the car, only disturbed by the street, the pedestrians, other cars… “Are you working for the Shimadas? Gabriel knows this will make it. If there’s something Jesse McCree cannot stand is betrayal, from others or from himself.

“No! What the hell?” McCree snaps, tossing the cig out the window and glaring at him with hurting eyes. “Why did you…?” Then it hits him, why bring up the Shimadas now, what does Gabriel know that he hasn’t told him, why would he suggest he’s a traitor.

“I saw you kissing Hanzo Shimada the other night.” Gabriel stares at him, reading every single expression of regret and remorse, and some relief too.

McCree goes blank. “Have you been following me?”

“So, there’s more to it,” Gabriel snorts, ignoring his accusation.

“It’s not what it looks like and I swear I was gonna tell you,” McCree says, angry at himself, at how he always disappoints the people he cares about. How is Hanzo going to love him when he is a mess that can’t do things right for once?

“Stop this now, and answer the damn question: are you working for Hanzo?” Gabriel knows he isn’t, that McCree couldn’t betray a stone from the road, but he will get to the bottom of this even if he has to hurt him to get there.

“I ain’t working for him, I work for you!” McCree hisses. “I’m fucking Hanzo Shimada,” he mumbles. He put it mildly. “That’s all.” Another fucking lie. The sigh of disappointment from Gabriel Reyes stings more than he expected. “I was gonna tell ya’, Gabe.” His shoulders fall slack, defeated and wondering if Hanzo was worth this trouble if he is so naïve and stupid to believe this is something real and not just a ruse to get him to betray Blackwatch. He would never, but yet, Hanzo has too much to hold against him. He has jeopardized the whole operation thinking with his mindless cock.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, kid?” Gabriel snarls. “For Christ’s sake, you’re going back to Switzerland.” His mind runs a mile an hour, thinking only about Jesse’s safety, at how Hanzo would react if he cannot use him for whatever purpose he has drawn McCree close to him. “This makes you an easy target.”

“I know I fucked up,” McCree mutters. His heart aches, his mind races trying to find a way to make him understand, so Gabe knows this isn’t just a plot against Blackwatch or against him, that nobody is using him for nothing that he… they just fell in love. “But it ain’t that simple, I…”

“You can’t be that stupid, kid,” Gabriel says harshly, with a reprimand tainting his words and ripping McCree’s heart.

“But I am, Gabe,” McCree says, shrugging and exhaling a deep sigh while a half-smile stretches his lips. “This has nothing to do with the mission, Blackwatch, or Talon, this is between me and Hanzo.”

“Jesus Christ,” Gabriel curses. “You should’ve told me earlier.”

“M’sorry, Gabe,” McCree says, his puppy eyes open wide, glancing at him. “I’ll make it right, but you gotta let me figure this out. Hanzo’s not the guy you think he is…” A crackling noise from the comms interrupt him, and they set a silent truce while this is over. McCree cannot help to feel relieved. He will have a heart to heart with Gabe but not now. He’s more likely to succeed behind a glass of whiskey and not in the middle of a surveillance operation.

“Commander, we spotted the target in the surroundings.”

“Keep an eye on every way in and out of that hotel until I say so,” Gabriel says. “We can’t lose him.”

“Are we going in?” McCree asks, hand on the door handle.

“No,” Gabriel says. “We’ll wait and let our team do their job.”

While the commander barks orders through the comms, McCree finishes his coffee, still rattled by how Gabe has found out about him and Hanzo. He never thought he would be the one to spy or follow him around, but there must be an explanation to that too. They definitely need to talk, and he has to convince Gabriel that, even though he was biased since the beginning, they work well together and the Shimada-gumi has helped them against Talon. Gabriel’s husky voice when he is angry startles him, for once blessed that he isn’t the one on the other side of the comms even though his bad mood is clearly his fault. The team confirms the leader of Talon’s presence and soon they watch the tall and broad man getting out a car in front of the hotel.

McCree grits his teeth in anticipation. The reason they came to Hanamura, the big bug that menaces Overwatch and everything they fight for is there, dusting the lapels of his suit and waiting patiently at the main door as though he owned the fucking world. They won’t lose him again, they will find Talon’s headquarters here and dismantle once and for all his plans to stick his claws in Hanamura. Hanzo would be pleased to hear the news, he’d buy him that peace of mind, that they’re not hanging by a thread anymore.

“What in the hell?” McCree growls, gripping the half-opened window and leaving sweaty fingerprints on them. He blinks, dumbfounded by the sight of Hanzo’s car at the very entrance of the hotel. He’d recognize that car anywhere.

“What’s going on?” Gabe asks and McCree points with his chin, unable to produce a word.

Akande opens the door of the car and suddenly, a lump clogs his throat, his mouth dry and his heart thumping. Hanzo steps out of the car with his usual grace, making a fuss of every little movement, bedazzling, perfect as always. He is wearing a black suit that couldn’t match more perfectly his hair and onyx eyes. Breathtaking. McCree feels dizzy and if he wasn’t sitting, he would have fallen to his knees before him as the fool he is.

“You knew about this?” Gabriel sports a deep frown between his eyebrows, unable to take his eyes off from Jesse and the expression of betrayal and concern in his eyes.

“No.” The word comes out in a strangled gasp. Akande takes Hanzo’s hand and lifts it to his lips, stealing what Jesse can only imagine is a contented smile from Hanzo as he kisses his knuckles.

“Jesse,” Gabe whispers, his hand squeezing his shoulder, but McCree feels nothing.

He wonders how stupid he has been, how naïve to not see beyond his nose and trust a man that cannot be trusted. And yet everything felt so real, their nights together, the smiles, the subtle unnecessary touches, the damn kisses, for god’s sake. Not even the better actor in the world could pretend so well to be in love, or maybe his own feelings for him clouded his judgment, but everything felt so real… as real as Akande trapping his chin, leaning forward and claiming Hanzo’s mouth to himself.

An intent itch eats him from the inside out, jealousy, possessiveness, twisting his stomach in a knot of pain and unrequited love he will have to digest alone in the bottom of a bottle. He clenches his teeth and looks away as they enter the hotel. He’s been a fool and he will pay the consequences as he has always done. There is a bitter taste in his mouth that he cannot swallow; as persistent as the mental image of Hanzo and Akande together. A stab to the heart.

“Looks like Hanzo’s in bed with the enemy too,” Gabriel says with a loud sigh.

“No,” Jesse growls, refusing to believe that’s all there is. The memories of Hanzo last night invade his mind and his heart like a surge, like a jolt of hope and trust. There is no way to fake that, the way they look at each other, the way they fucked until they were one and then more. A man who could have hurt him since the beginning but has paid him with his trust, who has shared with him his present, his past, his wholehearted love for his brother, a man who has tied him up and raised him to heaven, welcoming him in his home and his life. No, there must be so much more to this, pissed and all as he is, McCree knows. Always a fool, he trusts Hanzo.

“Jesse, you need to focus or I’ll send you back to the base.”

“No,” McCree says, glancing at him. “Something’s off and I ain’t leaving Hanzo alone with that guy.”

Gabriel sighs, focused on the comms, on the team, while McCree digests what he has seen and dwells on what is going on. He sends a message to Genji. If someone knows it’s him, but he gets no answer and despair shrinks his heart, the doubts trying to creep up his mind and fog his judgment. “What the hell are you doing, Hanzo?” McCree curses under his nose. Looks like leaving Hanzo’s bed this morning wasn’t the hardest thing he had to do today after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter ヾ（〃＾∇＾）ﾉ♪ Three more to the end of this fic, that initially was going to be a 30~40k words thingy and... well, you've been reading along xDDDD
> 
> Thank you so much !! ꒰˘̩̩̩⌣˘̩̩̩๑꒱♡
> 
> PS: I missed my bossy, tease Hanzo..... (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄


	10. Amour fou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Amour fou" refers to an uncontrollable or obsessive passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit earlier than usual! I hope you don't mind... ╭(♡･ㅂ･)و ̑̑
> 
> My lovely Cap outdid herself again and blessed me with more beautiful art for this fic. I'm speechless!! I don't deserve so much and I treasure every sketch dearly. In case you missed it because I updated the chapters a couple of days after posting them, she drew a NSFW scene from [Chapter 4](https://78.media.tumblr.com/265721999cb133deaced20b59af37dff/tumblr_inline_pd7n1oEp3f1vhrruf_1280.jpg) and now this wonderful, amazing piece (also NSFW) from [Chapter 5](https://captainneedsnosleep.tumblr.com/post/178008126014/the-escalation-of-fanart-for-fanfic-incoming). Please! Give her a much deserved love on [tumblr](https://captainneedsnosleep.tumblr.com/) if you like!
> 
> Thank you so much, Cap, it means the world to me that what I write inspires you (੭ु｡╹▿╹｡)੭ु⁾⁾
> 
> A warning that there will be violence in this chapter and the next one! Nothing too explicit or unbearable, but keep that in mind ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Hanzo checks he has Sombra’s device in the inner pocket of his jacket for the ninth time tonight. Everything is ready, but he cannot bring up the will to leave his apartment just yet. As he inspects himself in the mirror of his bedroom and fixes the knot of his dark grey tie, Genji creeps behind him and sneaks both arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “Don’t go,” Genji mumbles, squeezing.

Not even the tenderest pouting of his little brother would change his mind. Hanzo determined to take Akande down and kick him out of Hanamura and he will do exactly that without the help of Blackwatch. This is his city, his empire. He will honor his father and defend what is his. The Shimada-gumi may not be what it used to fifty years ago, rotten roots and a handful of dishonorable men led the organization to its end, and Hanzo endures with a raised chin the last remnants. Things will be different from now on, the world is changing, a new omnic crisis menaces their future and Hanzo won’t let that tarnish their livelihood. Hanzo will secure an alliance with Blackwatch, will turn his empire into something to be proud of, something that will enrich Hanamura instead of feeding on it as it has been since before he was born. A smirk stretches his lips, fueled by a confidence in himself and this foolish plan.

“You know where I am, Genji,” Hanzo says. “You can track my phone in case I do not return when I have told you.”

“Anija…” Genji mumbles at his back, loosening his embrace to step at his brother’s right and look intently into his eyes through the mirror in front. “Tell Blackwatch about this.”

“No,” Hanzo sighs. “They would not trust me, and I would not blame them for it.”

“Jesse would,” Genji says, trying to make Hanzo see sense and not endanger himself. Akande Ogundimu is not an individual to toy with no matter how sly and resourceful Hanzo proves himself to be. This is dangerous, and his stomach clenches in distress at the thought of waiting for his brother while he does nothing.

“He could get into trouble,” Hanzo says with a sweet smile, turning about to take his brother’s chin between his knuckles and stare into his glazing eyes. Genji is upset, he would do this himself without question but waiting patiently was never his strong suit. “He is too involved with us, and that is my fault entirely. I cannot do that to him now.”

“But…” Genji retorts but Hanzo stops him pressing their lips together.

“It is enough I kept this from him,” Hanzo whispers, guiltiness surging through him at the many times he has had to confess his plans to McCree and he hasn’t out of foolishness. Of course, he trusts the cowboy, to the moon and back, but Hanzo knows how important Blackwatch is to him, how painful has been to hide their liaison at his boss’ back, and get involved with him, nothing more than a criminal and a yakuza. Hanzo has done enough to jeopardize his life offering nothing in return and this is his chance to make things right and then, hopefully, wishfully, they can start anew without secrets meddling in between.

“You really love him,” Genji mumbles, running a thumb over his brother’s smiling lips until Hanzo snorts.

“You are getting cheesier than the cowboy,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I will be fine.” One last gentle brush of lips and Hanzo frees himself from Genji’s embrace and is on his way to the hotel. A few more hours and everything will be over.

Hanzo has to remind himself he is doing this for a greater good several times, phone in hand, wondering if he should send at least a warning to Jesse, something to hint where he will be and what he will be doing. Blackwatch cannot stop this once he’s with Akande, it’d be too dangerous and they won’t risk arresting him without backup. But Hanzo turns his phone off and puts it back into his pocket, glancing out the window of the car and dreading the end of the short trip. He puts his façade back on, the one that fools his enemies and everyone else but not Jesse and Genji. They see right through him.

Akande waits for him at the sidewalk of the hotel, outside, probably he just arrived or he intends to make sure he attends to their arranged date with no chance to escape. Hanzo gets out of the car with a smirk, a smug aura surrounding him, and enough charm to caught Akande’s eye who takes his hand and kisses his knuckles. For a brief moment, Hanzo believes this will be easy, like taking candy from a kid when he can read the eagerness and enthusiasm in his body language. In how he traps his chin as though he is entitled to and claims his mouth like a lover would. Akande’s kisses taste like nothing, meaningless brushes of lips that excite him no more than a casual affair that seems a nuisance since the beginning. The ones he renounced long ago because they made him feel empty. He fakes a lovely gasp that pleases him, turning his face and breaking the kiss too soon.

“Still playing hard to get?” Akande chuckles and links Hanzo’s arm around his own while he guides him inside the hotel. “I love it.”

The leader of Talon keeps his hands to himself on the elevator, so not like his cowboy, who would be all over him stripping him bare and pinning him to a wall before they even reach their floor, much less their room. You cannot fake passion, that comes on its own, and Hanzo knows the difference all too well while he relishes in how lucky he is to have Jesse and Genji to share and bask in a tale of _amour fou_.

At least Akande reserved one of the luxury suits of the hotel, a primly arranged room, big enough to accommodate a small living room, a desk to work in front of the impressive windows and, of course, a bed worthy of a king. Akande turns a few lights on so the room is dimly illuminated before the last rays of sun disappear to give in to the Hanamura night. Hanzo sits on the couch and crosses his legs while an arm braces the back of the couch.

“I hope the room is to your liking,” Akande says, checking his phone and leaving it on the coffee table in front of Hanzo. _Convenient_ , Hanzo thinks while a half-smile creeps up his lips, admiring how Akande takes off his jacket, exposing a white buttoned shirt too tight for the impressive muscles that lay underneath. It wrinkles in all the wrong -right- places and perhaps, in other circumstances, this could have been a pleasant encounter. If only Akande wasn’t a pretentious prick.

“You are to my liking,” Hanzo says with a sultry voice and a smirk, patting the spot beside him. It pleases Akande because he sits hastily and his chest heaves in anticipation. “What exactly do you want from me?” A wide grin stretches his lips and Akande points to the huge bed with his eyes, glancing at Hanzo right after. It takes the better of him not to roll his eyes, instead, Hanzo chuckles lovingly. “As the leader of the Shimada-gumi,” he flirts.

“We will rule Hanamura, Hanzo,” Akande says, scooting closer until their thighs rub. “And the world.” Hanzo arches a questioning eyebrow. He is so paid of himself; he has no doubt that he will get whatever he wants from him and his clan. “Once I get my gauntlet back nothing will stop me.” Hanzo admires Akande’s prosthetic, a fine and elaborated arm that looks human and feels human so far, a permanent reminder of what he lost. But the gauntlet is a completely different issue. The weapon of the previous Doomfist rests on the Overwatch museum, that is common knowledge, except the news cannot stop talking lately about the upcoming celebration of the Unity Day in Numbani and how the city’s Heritage Museum will hold a Doomfist exhibit as part of the celebration.

Hanzo’s smirk widens, his hand distracting Akande from the conversation by kneading his way up to his thigh. “That is why you need to visit Numbani in such a hurry.” Akande intends to reclaim his gauntlet once and for all.

“I knew you were smart,” Akande says, leaning over him. “And I also know the situation here is not what it used to. I’ve done my research.”

“Impressive,” Hanzo praises. Hanamura crime scene isn’t big news, the old businesses aren't as prolific as they used to. War fueled arms smuggling, but once it was over, everything went down the drain. The Shimada-gumi survives because Hanzo was smart enough to clean most of his companies while keeping control and collecting benefits from other clans, keeping the illegal business alive too. It’s reasonable to assume Talon would want a piece of that business if their intentions are to spark a new conflict worldwide.

“I could infuse money in your cause,” Akande says, his words strangled when Hanzo reaches the hip joint and brushes a half-hard on with a naughty thumb. “Invest in this… you.”

“Money is not an issue,” Hanzo says with unnerving calmness.

“Loyalty is.” Akande shows a smug grin. “The elders are obsolete. Tradition slow things down.”

“You are right,” Hanzo whispers, drumming his fingers right on his crotch before he travels upward, unbuttoning deftly his shirt and revealing a beautiful dark chocolate skin that contrasts with the white of his garment. The man is a prick, but he’s breathtaking.

“Most families have disappeared, the old world is changing and…” Akande gasps when Hanzo’s warm hand fondles his chest unabashedly, circling a nipple until it hardens. “I’m the new world, Hanzo.”

“You may have a point there,” Hanzo says, his hand traveling down to the buckle of his belt, fingertips caressing the well-chiseled abs. Akande loses control and takes his mouth demandingly, hunching over him and finishing the conversation for them. His hands are all over Hanzo, touching and squeezing, daring to palm his erection over the trousers and moaning hot and wet into his mouth when he finds him hard too. Hanzo groans, pushing a hand on his chest and using the leverage to straddle him on the couch. “My rules,” Hanzo growls.

“Yes,” Akande moans, hands groping for his ass and pushing him onward. His prosthetic feels harder, stronger, surely bruising his skin in that grip.

Hanzo allows the kiss to go far, way farther than he intended, but this man is unstoppable, grabbing and kissing much more passionately than he would have imagined. Perhaps his interest is genuine and not merely a transaction to secure the deal. What a shame Hanzo isn’t interested in the least, and even hard and throbbing by the make-out session and those hands squeezing smartly where he needs, Hanzo backs off, leaving a sore mess panting in front of his face.

“Do you want me or not?” Akande says, flustered and frowning when Hanzo stands.

“Take off your shirt.” The command comes out naturally as it always does with him, and while Akande chuckles, Hanzo puts a hand inside the pocket of his jacket and activates Sombra’s device. “Now.” Akande stands defiantly, taking it off and exposing proudly a muscled bare chest that makes Hanzo swallow in awe at the sight, his eyes rake down to the hard bulge on a side of his trousers.

Hanzo takes off his jacket in return, dropping it unceremoniously on the coffee table. It falls right on top of Akande’s phone, and he hopes Sombra’s expensive fee makes justice to his skills as a hacker. If not, all this would have been useless, though having the chance to ogle Akande closely isn’t exactly a loss.

“What now?” Akande asks, his amusement visible in the subtle smirk of his lips. For a man not used to following commands he is taking pleasure in this, Hanzo can tell.

“Trousers,” he says, flicking his eyes over his lower body as suggestively as he can, given the circumstances. Hanzo enjoys this regardless, powerful men wrapped around his little finger is a rush he finds hard to deny to himself, and as long as he is in control of the situation, nothing can go wrong. They are like putty in his hands.

“How are you going to tie me up?” Akande says, stepping out of his trousers and showing off a body built for combat, muscles tense and flex. Hanzo swallows, admiring the specimen in front of him and the jutting erection trapped in his boxers.

Then a smug smile creeps up his face while he hooks his forefinger in the knot of his tie, unraveling it slowly until it slides undone around the collar of his shirt. “With this,” he says, crawling down to his knees before Akande’s blown wide pupils scrutinize every single one of his movements, delighted surely by the sight of him. Hanzo spots the pang of disappointment in his eyes when he takes the belt from his trousers and tugs at it harshly. “And with this.” He makes sure Akande feels the warmth emanating from his body as he stands before him again. Even if the man is taller and towers over him, Hanzo’s ruthless stance surprises Akande and he lets out his arousal in a low growl that rumbles as a kitten’s purr, but slightly deadlier.

“It’ll take more than that to stop me,” Akande brags.

“After I am done with you,” Hanzo drawls in a raspy voice while a hand clenches around Akande’s jaw, making the man glance down at him. “You will want nothing more than this.”

Akande grunts again, reluctant enough to be a challenge, but Hanzo knows no sane man would hesitate to follow him as he ambles toward the bed, the belt in one hand, his tie in the other, a hard-on on a side of his crotch. A living temptation. Akande follows dutifully, getting rid of his boxers and climbing up the bed with the confidence of someone in charge, of someone that will get exactly what he wants. Or so he believes… Hanzo’s smug smile widens, straddling him eagerly, partly to avoid the sight of the impressive hard length of the leader of Talon who would be tempting if his heart didn’t belong to a certain cowboy; and partly to start his little game while Sombra’s device hacks a decrypted copy of Akande’s phone. According to Mrs. Colomar, it shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes.

 

A damn hour. Hanzo’s been up there an hour doing whatever thing he’s doing with the leader of Talon while McCree huffs, restless, and lights another cigarette. He wants to be professional, to cast his feelings aside, but his heart aches, his stomach curls in despair, and his mind rambles at the many things that could go wrong. Hanzo should have told him about this, and if he hasn’t that means he didn’t want to. As Gabriel suggested earlier, Hanzo is in bed with Talon, with Akande, and he is fucking him senseless and offering him the whole city at his feet. As though he gives a shit about Hanamura while he is sitting in a car doing nothing and feeling sorry for himself. His mind battles between jealousy, bitterness, and reason. McCree trusts him, hurt and full of doubts he has to believe there is a hidden purpose behind this, and yet his heart aches.

“You knew who he was, Jesse,” Gabriel says with an angry taint on his words at how silent and gloomy is the atmosphere inside the car. “He is a criminal that will fight only for his own interests.” The endless wait outside the building isn’t helping either.

Even mad jealous, he won’t admit to Gabe that he knew the risks since the beginning, that his mind tried to warn him but he ignored the signs and fell to his knees. “He’s not. I just need to talk to him.” A long drag calms his nerves and McCree checks for the third time that minute that Genji hasn’t replied to his anxious text. Without revealing the nature of the operation, he asked where Hanzo is.

“I need you to focus and stop acting like a teenager,” Gabriel scowls.

“I’m here, ain’t I?” McCree mutters, but he would love to get out of the car and look for Hanzo even if he has to take down all the doors of the hotel one by one.

“Watch the attitude,” Gabriel arches an eyebrow and McCree sees the weariness and disappointment in his gaze, exactly what he didn’t want to see. “You got yourself in deep shit.”

“Ya’ don’t have to remind me I fucked up,” McCree mumbles.

“What’s done is done.” Gabriel takes the cig from his fingers and puffs a short drag before he tosses it out the window. They have both smoked more than enough for a lifetime today. “We got the upper hand here, and if you really believe Hanzo can explain this… -McCree turns to look at him in disbelief as though he wasn’t expecting Gabe to have faith in him, much less in Hanzo.- Why would he feed us with so much reliable intel to betray us after? We will find out, okay?”

“Yes, boss,” McCree says, a spark of hope brightening the torturous wait for information. His phone chimes over his thigh. It’s a message from Genji. _Trust him_. “Goddamnit,” McCree curses under his nose at the brevity.

While the commander sorts out the details with the rest of the team, McCree sighs, his gaze fixed on the hotel even if he knows Hanzo isn’t coming out of there any time soon. It could be hours and it would kill him to see him leave disheveled and flushed, or worse, with a well-fucked face he would recognize in a heartbeat. The Blackwatch team located Akande’s floor but not the number of the room, otherwise, they’d be camping outside. That complicates things, but as long as they keep an eye on every exit it should be fine.

“We got a room, commander.” The comms crack with the new information, startling both.

“Finally,” McCree and Gabriel mutter at the same time.

“We saw Hanzo Shimada coming out of the room 433. We assume Akande is still inside.”

“Secure that room with two more men,” Gabriel barks through the comms. “What about Hanzo?”

“He took the elevator to the parking.”

McCree and Gabriel lock eyes, thinking the same. The valet took Hanzo’s car there, and he is leaving the building fast. Gabriel starts the car. “Team, I need confirmation that Hanzo Shimada is in the vehicle he came in,” Gabriel says and, even though the answer comes in a few seconds, it felt like ages.

“He is, sir. Black Mercedes.”

McCree nods. “We need to intercept him.”

“We will.” Gabriel incorporates to the traffic and, following the indications from the surveillance team, and McCree’s help, he sights Hanzo’s car and chases him through the streets as discreetly as he can. There are few vehicles, the traffic flows and for once, the traffic lights play in their favor. “Any clue to where is he going?” he asks McCree.

“His apartment.”

The bile comes up his throat once more, he cannot see through the tinted windows of the car, he cannot see his face and doesn’t know if he’ll be able to look at him in the eye and discover everything has been a farce and he a mere toy to keep Blackwatch busy while Hanzo seals the real deal with Talon. McCree needs to talk to him, to ease his mind and his heart or he will go mad. A fool, for falling for him, for not being smarter, stronger and baring his soul when there is so much at stake. And yet, the memories of Hanzo’s steadfast kisses soothe his soul as a salve.

 _Trust him_.

 

 

“Isn’t this too tight?” Akande complains with a naughty smile and a spark of excitement in his gaze.

“I do not want you running away from me,” Hanzo says, straddling Akande’s chest while he fastens the belt around his right wrist and the headboard. The strongest bind for the strongest hand while his tie secures the other side.

“I can easily break free from this,” Akande brags, tugging at the bindings with a smug grin.

“I am aware of your strength, your muscles do not go unnoticed, Akande,” Hanzo flirts, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. Akande can free himself but it will take him at least ten minutes, enough for Hanzo to flee from there unharmed, especially because the more he pulls at the knot the more he will trap himself, at least the hand secured by the tie.

Once he finishes, Hanzo braces himself on the strong torso underneath, pinning him down to the mattress with his whole body weight and bouncing slightly when Akande bucks his hips up playfully, surely anticipating the fantasies lurking his luscious mind. It’s like straddling an unbreakable marble statue. Having the man willing to surrender beneath him thrills Hanzo who admires shamelessly the goods he won’t taste. “I would prefer you wearing fewer clothes, Hanzo.”

“I bet you do,” Hanzo says, hovering over him, watching how Akande writhes and chases a touch that he unmercifully denies. His lips ghost his skin, feeling his warmth, giving him goosebumps on his way down. “What else?”

“I want to hear you moan for my cock,” Akande bluntly says, so engaged in their little game that he suspects nothing of Hanzo’s real intentions. “The room is soundproofed, only I will listen how much you like it.”

“Bold request,” Hanzo jests and Akande chuckles amused, surely believing he will achieve that and more when in fact, he is getting nothing more than blue balls. Hanzo almost pities the man when he lowers down his impressive abs, allowing himself the ogling of a body built to perfection into a killing machine. Precise, soft -he can only imagine- the heat emanating from him overwhelms him, and right before he reaches down his navel and eyes the impressive erection that Akande blatantly sports, Hanzo sighs, turning down the delightful opportunity and endless pleasures he could draw out of him in favor of his covetous heart.

Hanzo revels in the fact that he has made this man lust for him for the past weeks and he will not fulfill what he promised. He could make him beg, he wonders, a finger traveling down his thigh while he kneels between his legs and licks his lips at the spectacle in front of him. He would beg and cry out his name, and Hanzo would forbid his orgasms for hours, he would endure it all and more. For Akande’s misfortune, that won’t happen in this life or any other except for his rich imagination. This could have been a good fuck, a one-night stand because nothing would make him agree to an alliance with Talon, but now it will be another business-battle won in the bedroom and a man defeated by his charms. He climbs down the bed and sighs again, a mischievous smile stretching his lips while he stares into Akande’s knowing eyes while he processes what is about to happen.

“Hanzo?”

“I believe it is time we finish our previous conversation,” Hanzo says, picking up his jacket from the coffee table and wearing it nonchalantly, cocking his head when a whimper leaves Akande’s mouth as he uselessly tries to tug at the bindings.

“Untie me,” Akande grunts.

“That would not be wise,” Hanzo teases.

“You can’t leave me like this!” Akande protests, the expanse of his body tensing and flexing on the bed.

“Talon aims do not coincide with my own,” Hanzo quips, prowling toward the door as he gives one last glance at the man he could have fucked to madness and now will lust for him and the score he will never settle.

“And you realize that now,” Akande growls, glaring at him while his chest heaves and he tugs at the silky tie that will not give way and the belt that won’t be unbuckled without help. Hanzo is pretty sure that a bit of struggle mixed with anger will break the headboard or force the bindings, but he is already on his way.

“It has been a pleasure, Akande,” Hanzo says, closing the door behind him and muffling the tattered growl of anger from the leader of Talon. His car and chauffeur wait for him at the parking, and he hurries to take the elevator down there, greeting politely at the cleaning lady patrolling the floor at these odd hours. Akande is pissed, he has officially refused Talon’s offer and that will have consequences, but he suspects nothing about the information Hanzo and Blackwatch will gather using the copy of his personal phone. That gives them the upper hand until he does. His cover-up worked wonderfully and Hanzo smiles smugly to himself. Now he can find Genji, call Jesse, and arrange a meeting with the elders to brief them in about his unmovable decision regarding Talon.

 

As soon as Hanzo’s Mercedes disappears inside his building and Gabriel stops the car, McCree gets out in a hurry and without thinking straight. “Jesse!” Gabriel yells at him. To hell with it, he cannot endure this anymore, he needs to see Hanzo face to face and figure out what just happened and why he was in a hotel room with their enemy. After working together, sharing so much valuable information with Blackwatch, and relying on their security, it’s obvious that something is amiss.

“Give me five,” McCree pleads, turning about to glance at him through the opened window.

“For fuck’s sake…” Gabriel hisses. “Five!”

Dodging the traffic, McCree crosses the street and glances up at the building to gather himself for a moment and to gasp for air. He greets the doorman and gets in the elevator as he always does, trying not to look like a crazy boyfriend in a fit of jealousy even though the mere thought of that man touching and hoarding Hanzo for himself twists his stomach upside down. McCree runs a hand through his hair, his eyes revealing a tad too much of his inner turmoil. He needs to calm down before they speak, try to be professional, this isn’t about their personal affair, McCree lies to himself. After a few endless moments, he steps out of the elevator, inching the distance to Hanzo’s door in decisive strides until he stops to a halt, fists clenched at both sides of his body and a cold sweat giving him a frisson. In the next exhale, he knocks.

“Jesse,” Genji says, frowning but welcoming him inside.

“Where’s Hanzo?” he asks, more bluntly than he means, locking eyes with a puzzled Genji until Hanzo appears, dashing as ever, and joins them in the living room. He sports a devilish grin and his eyes flicker with amusement. “How long?” McCree asks. After feeling like a fool for the past hour, used and discarded, not even the warmth in Hanzo’s black eyes when he looks at him eases the pang of jealousy.

“How long what?” Hanzo narrows his eyes, trying to guess what’s wrong and then realizing there is only one thing that would upset McCree like this, and it means that it is already too late for him to tell him about his plan or, in this case, the success of it. He knew Blackwatch would find Akande if they paid attention to everything he provided. That’s a risk he took consciously trusting the end would justify his actions. Lies would have covered his plans, but then Blackwatch would never trust him again.

“You’re in bed with Talon,” McCree hisses even though his face flushes in embarrassment at the bold accusation without giving him a chance to explain first. “I saw you with him.”

“Oh, that,” Hanzo teases, closing the distance between them with a funny smile that prickles every fiber on McCree’s body. “A few weeks. The leader of Talon contacted me.”

“An’ you’ve been fucking him too.”

“Jesse!” Genji chides him, nudging him with an elbow. “Hanzo’s been…” his brother shushes him, a half-smile stretching his lips while he focuses on the cowboy, on how sweet and righteous he gets when he’s jealous.

“Why do you care who I fuck?” Hanzo asks at the same time he cups McCree’s face with so much tenderness the dichotomy confuses him further. _Because I love you, damn it,_ McCree wants to yell and instead, he grasps Hanzo’s wrist and caresses the back of his hand with a thumb. Suddenly, everything slows down and he cannot find the unraveled anger that brought him here or doubts that flooded him earlier.

“You know damn well why,” McCree mumbles. “Why didn’t you rely on me for whatever thing you did?”

“Because that is what I do, Jesse,” Hanzo says and sighs. “I do things on my own because I cannot trust anyone.” It has been like that his whole life and a charming cowboy wouldn’t change his deportment so easily.

“You can trust me.”

“I protected you,” Hanzo gives him a peck on the lips. “This was foolish even for me, you would have had to tell your boss about us and he would not have entrusted me with this mission.”

“He already knows about us,” McCree snorts, shaking out the nerves swathed by their presence and the snickering from Genji. “But tell me, darlin’, what did you do?”

“I’ll get things ready before I puke,” Genji says, rolling his eyes and squeezing McCree’s shoulder before he disappears into the hall.

Hanzo stares into those gentle whiskey-colored eyes, finding a less distressed Jesse and the gaze he wants to drown himself into as often as he can. Relief washes through him, not only because everything went according to plan, but because, even now in the dark, he recognizes how much he trusts him, bedazzled before his unwavering gaze. McCree winds his arms around his waist, pulling him closer possessively and he throws his arms over his shoulders in response. “You are adorable when you get jealous,” Hanzo says with a purse of his lips.

“So, you haven’t… -McCree clears his throat-… slept with him?”

A hearty chuckle blurts out of Hanzo. “I tied him up to the bed, naked, and I lost one of my favorite ties in the process…”

“I don’t think I wanna know the details,” McCree sighs, pressing their foreheads together.

“You know me, cowboy,” Hanzo drawls, his fingers caressing the little hairs at his nape and sending a whole-body shudder through McCree. “I am not unfaithful to the ones I love.”

McCree freezes, his heart leaps and threatens to stop. “Does that mean…” he babbles, squeezing his waist, forcing Hanzo to stand on his tiptoes. They are so close their lips brush, sharing a ragged breath, the same air, and a mad kiss when McCree claims his mouth in a slanting possession; Hanzo is downright his and no one will say otherwise. He parts his lips with a slow glide of his tongue, back and forth, savoring the sheer essence of him and stealing a sultry moan that goes right to his cock and curls up his stomach nice and warm. Hanzo lets him lead the kiss, reveling in every little thrust of his tongue, in every strangled whine that says so much without words. The cowboy never disappoints nor do his heartwarming and toe-curling kisses. They stop to gasp for air, lungs burning and head dizzy.

“Connect the dots,” Hanzo whispers with a wicked smile.

“Have you told him?” Genji interrupts, walking swiftly toward them with a jacket in hand. McCree blushes, stepping back and clearing his throat but sporting a dopey smile that hides nothing from the brat. Genji rolls his eyes. “Hanzo was using Akande to get intel for Blackwatch without suspicion.” Hanzo hands McCree Sombra’s device and the cowboy toys with the little thingy, it looks like a USB but he suspects it’s way more important than that.

“That made a copy of Akande’s personal phone,” Hanzo says with a smug smile and relishes in the surprised expression on McCree’s face.

“That was reckless even for you, darlin’,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

“You need to take this to Blackwatch immediately,” Hanzo says, heading to the door to leave the apartment. “Let’s go.” Bossy, as always.

McCree smiles and watches him leave, following close until Genji grasps his elbow and makes him turn around. Those big black eyes stare at him in amusement. “You’re a fool,” Genji teases and McCree lets out a hearty chuckle.

“Yeah, that’s what your brother always says.” McCree winks at him.

The travel on the elevator relaxes him, he can explain what happened to Gabe, and he has that peace of mind he anxiously needed moments ago. This means Hanzo is no longer their enemy; that Blackwatch and the Shimada-gumi will work together from now on. If he has played a part in Hanzo’s decision, he cannot tell, but the man he met weeks ago isn’t the same standing right beside him now, or perhaps he was, and he’s been lucky enough to be able to peel the layers on the outside. Hanzo’s stern façade is still on, his mind surely occupied with thoughts of the consequences of his actions. He just declared war to Talon and offered the full extent of his leverage to Blackwatch for free. No deals ahead, no negotiation, a leap of faith. When the elevator reaches their floor and they step out, Hanzo speaks, remaining inside.

“Give that to your boss, and express my desire to keep working together in the future,” Hanzo says, the corner of his lip twitching upward.

“Ain’t ya’ coming with us?” McCree asks, a deep frown forming between his eyebrows while he puts a hand on the elevator door to prevent it from closing.

“I need to meet with the elders and inform them about my decision to ally with Blackwach even though the benefits were far surpassed by Talon’s offer,” Hanzo says, arching an eyebrow at McCree. “I just started a war, but they have no choice but to accept my actions. The Shimadas stand with Blackwatch and Hanamura is nothing without us.”

“I’m coming with you!” Genji snarls, dreading being left behind once more while Hanzo bears the weight over his shoulders.

“I want you nowhere near them, understood?” Hanzo says with a death-threatening look in his eyes, making Genji huff. “Keep my brother safe.” He locks eyes with a worrisome Jesse. “And yourself.” McCree nods and winks at him.

“Come on, sweet pie,” McCree says, placing a caring hand on the small of his back. “You’ll be safe in the headquarters.” Genji sighs, not wanting to start a fight over things that are out of his control. Hanzo always dealt with the elders, at first he deemed the task boring and tedious, he cannot expect to be involved in such matters now in a time of crisis only because he cares about Hanzo.

“I will join you soon.” McCree lets go of the door and Hanzo. In a few hours they will be reunited to talk through the situation with the commander. McCree hopes Hanzo is aware that he will have to make more than one concession if he wants to work with the good guys, but then again, Hanzo is smart and resourceful enough to find an agreement satisfactory for both, and Gabriel will be contented as long as Talon takes a blow.

McCree reads on Gabriel’s face that he isn’t happy about the situation while he approaches the car with Genji following promptly. “What the hell? I told you five,” the commander snarls, beckoning them to get inside the car.

“Shimada Genji. Nice to meet you, commander,” Genji says, slumping on the backseat of the car and extending a polite handshake to Gabe who takes it awkwardly, his gaze changing from the younger Shimada to McCree and urging him for information.

“I’m a fool and we got Akande’s phone,” McCree sums up before he explains about Hanzo, the undercover mission and the device that contains juicy information they can use against Talon, all by the hand of Hanzo Shimada to secure a truce with Blackwatch.

Gabriel snorts audibly, starting the car and setting them into motion. “Looks like your _boyfriend_ delivered,” he teases, turning McCree beet red and stealing a chuckle from Genji, but any joy they feel vanishes in a heartbeat when Gabriel continues. “We’re heading to the headquarters and you two will have time to brief the details in to me, but we have a problem.” What can possibly go wrong when they have succeeded and they have Akande secured in a hotel room surrounded by at least ten of their field agents? “Akande escaped our security ring -before McCree can bark nonsense, Gabriel keeps going a little louder-. He beat up the two guys that patrolled the door, they’re fine but they lost him. The guy on the parking lot was in no condition to put up a fight and only told us he ran away in a red SUV.”

“Damn it,” McCree curses, fidgeting with a lighter in his hand.

“Mr. Reyes, with your permission, I would like to inform my brother of this,” Genji says, his heart thumping at the prospect of Hanzo endangered by Akande in retaliation.

“We must discuss the terms of our…” Gabriel pauses, wondering how to put it mildly, and holding his cards until he can get his hands on that supposed breach on Talon’s security. “… association,” he finishes. “Where is Hanzo Shimada?”

McCree opens his mouth to speak but Genji is faster. “Securing the Shimada-gumi’s future under our family wing, he will speak with you further in detail once he comes back.”

“Tell him Akande absconded,” Gabriel says, narrowing his eyes and taking the next exit on the road that will take them far away from the city and directly to Blackwatch’s improvised headquarters.

McCree watches Genji attentively while he types restlessly on his phone, turned about and meeting his anxious gaze when he finishes. He looks pained. “He’ll be fine,” McCree says with a wink and a reassuring smile that hides his inner thoughts. They need to locate Hanzo and hide him far away from Talon, at least for now, until they extract the information they need to find them. Oblivious of what they will find, McCree cannot help but wonder if everything has been for nothing, the risks Hanzo took, the upcoming ruffle and how will they fit together now in these new circumstances. If that device contains nothing they’re in deep shit, and Gabriel’s threat comes back menacingly in his mind. Switzerland sounds like a punishment he isn’t ready to atone.

  
Hanzo always remembers how much he enjoys driving when he takes over his chauffeur duties. Behind the wheel of his impressive Mercedes that after three years still smells like new leather, he feels free and stimulated by the events of the night. His speech for the elders is ready, no clan or family can associate with Talon or they will be enemies of the Shimada-gumi. On once thing Akande was dreadfully right, the elders slow things down but they wouldn’t dare to cross his wishes, not when they owe him so much since Sojiro died. It won’t be easy at first, the less profligate families would want to join Talon and escape his leadership but he will endure it, he has the resources to do so, and enough loyal men to thrive. Hanamura will be under his wing, no more smuggling weapons or drugs, at least not directly from him, but he will keep an eye on the business and will use the benefits smartly. You cannot eradicate crime, new big bugs would raise in times of need and that’s the last thing he needs.

A smile stretches his lips on his way to the Hanamura castle, the dark road illuminated only by the headlights of his car and the lights of the road. He always loved how the path to the castle gets darker and darker as he leaves the city behind and climbs the hill where it lays, watchful and judging. The stars are more visible there, so are the most endearing memories of his childhood with Genji and his lovely mother.

His phone chimes persistently in the inside of his pocket surely his impatient brother wants him back, sound and safe and not wandering around right before they betrayed Talon. Hanzo’s thoughts get lost in Genji and how those first words about the dashing cowboy intrigued him. Everything led him here, Jesse McCree ignited the spark of change in their lives and there is no going back from his boring existence, only a bright future full of possibilities. For the first time in his life, a life he has conducted dutifully and honorably respecting his father’s wishes, Hanzo and Genji are genuinely free to do as they please, and the only one holding him back was himself, he realizes that now. He may be branded by the Shimada-gumi but he is finally the master of his life, and he has so much more to offer than a life of crime and shady businesses. He will give Genji the freedom he lacks and the life he deserves to choose for himself, and he will yield to what he feels, heart warmed only for Jesse who has fought for him even when he had no reasons to trust him.

Hanzo is so folded in his own thoughts he misses the car that crosses his path in the opposite direction if not for the blinding lights that make him narrow his eyes and slow his speed. Before he could process what’s happening, the same vehicle gives an abrupt turn and positions at his back, the overwhelming lights stealing him from the calmness of the night and flashing dangerously closer until it hits the rear of his car. Hanzo mumbles a curse, driving along the shoulder and watching, impassively how the mad driver hits him again and then speeds up, leveling at his left. The car swerves toward him. The next blow, even at low speed, makes him crash into the nearest ditch, the safety belt does his job, but again those blinding lights startle him and it is too late to react when the car lunges forward and a jumble of metal crashes into his left side unmercifully. He groans at the crush, uselessly trying to start the engine.

The car retreats again, and Hanzo, aware of the danger, removes the seatbelt and reaches for his phone. Hanzo means to call Genji, to ask for help, but a broad figure yanks the door of his car open as though it was made of cardboard. The phone falls between the seats and Hanzo curses again, holding his side when a piercing pain twists his spine in sheer agony at the attempt to reach it. Even flooded in pain Hanzo glares at the leader of Talon, who grips the roof of the car with one hand while the other still holds the discarded and ruined door.

“Hello, Hanzo,” Akande says with a grin bigger than a waning moon in the darkest night. That’s the last thing Hanzo sees before a ruthless jab knocks him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there! As always, I hope you liked this chapter σ(≧ε≦ｏ)  
> Thank you so, so much for reading ! Your comments give me life (∩˃o˂∩)♡
> 
> PS: I'm definitely writing Doomzo in the future.... about time I found my rare pair ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ xDDDD


	11. Hard row to hoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it ! ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

It’s been less than an hour since they left Hanzo on that elevator and McCree already feels like something is wrong. They arrived at the headquarters, a focus of ongoing activity because Gabriel called everyone up, not wanting to lose time, anticipating what they could find in the device Hanzo provided. Genji advised not to plug the thing anywhere with access to Blackwatch’s data, just in case, so they are working on it in another network far away from Athena. A breach in Overwatch’s security is the last thing they need. McCree paces along Gabriel’s office, longing for a task to ease his rambling mind. The commander glares at him as he speaks on the phone, following him with his gaze and unnerved by the lack of patience of the cowboy, something so out of character in him.

“Where’s Genji?” Gabriel asks, hanging up and pinning him in place with an intent gaze that suggests if he paces one more time along the length of this room he will regret it.

“Outside,” McCree beckons with his head. “He’s trying to call Hanzo.”

Gabriel lets out a long exhale, something is obviously eating him too and it’s not only the rushed situation and the imminent attack they couldn’t plan properly since they’ve been here weeks and could not find Talon’s nest. Perhaps Jackie was right, and this operation is doomed to fail one way or another. “Keep trying,” he says. “Our guys are dropping the information, that, apparently, should be encrypted, but it’s coming out clean and easy. Whoever helped the Shimadas on this did an excellent job.”

“Let’s hope there’s something valuable in there,” McCree says, clicking his tongue.

“Keep an eye on the Shimada,” Gabriel says, waving at him to leave his office and let him work in peace. “I’ll call you when we have something, and if you contact Hanzo, let me know.”

“Yes, boss,” McCree says, leaving his office to look for Genji. He dodges people on the halls, several SWAT teams getting ready, classifying weapons and wearing equipment as though they were ready to jump into the ORCA for a deployment. At least Gabriel took them seriously, trusted what Genji said was inside the device, and wants to finish Talon when they have the tactical advantage and the element of surprise. The strike commander would never commit to this plan without knowing the situation beforehand. He’d probably delay things a couple of days just to be sure, to plan things properly and ensure their success. But with Hanzo still missing and his cowboy gut telling him he should have never let him take that elevator without him… he’s so glad Gabriel is in charge.

McCree finds Genji outside, staring into the starry night sky, phone in hand and surely swathed by the calmness and silence here compared to the racket inside. As he approaches, he can see Genji shivering under the cold breeze and his first instinct is to place a warm, caring hand on his nape, caressing the side of his neck with a callous thumb. Genji sighs and throws an arm around his waist, snuggling into him for warmth and comfort and surprised by the harsh chest piece of his Blackwatch uniform. It suits him all too well, he’s so handsome dressed in black Genji wishes his brother could see him like this too. There are traces of the cowboy still in his attire but topped with a dangerous aura he finds absolutely arousing. And his gun; an impressive revolver with a barrel longer than any handgun he’s ever seen hanging peacefully from his right hip. Suddenly he wants to see McCree immersed in the heat of battle, brandishing it, his muscles flexing by the recoil.

“He’s fine,” McCree lies, bringing him back to earth and his worries. Hopefully, this is for nothing and his phone will ring unexpectedly with news of his brother. Hanzo has to be fine.

“He’s not answering,” Genji mumbles. “And I’ve called so much that his phone is off.” McCree squeezes his shoulder, bringing him closer. He is the only person here who understands how important it is for him to see Hanzo safe and unharmed. Genji keeps the worst to himself even if McCree cracks the outside with his presence. “Jesse,” Genji says, creating some distance between them so he can look into his eyes. “He would have called by now. Something has happened to my brother.” He cups his cheek, tracing circles over the cheekbones he shares with Hanzo, smitten by the sadness and concern glazing in his eyes.

“Sweet pie…” McCree says, needing the peace of mind and frowning at being unable to ease the pain in Genji’s expression.

“Maybe an hour is still too soon but…” Genji hesitates, taking his phone out and showing McCree a map with a flashing red dot in the middle of nowhere. “We can find each other when necessary, as a security measure. This is the last position on his GPS.”

“Let’s go there,” McCree blurts out, glimpsing a tad of hope.

“It’s the road that leads to the Hanamura Castle, where Hanzo went to speak with the elders,” Genji says, his eyes pleading for McCree to help him out with this.

“Tell you what, sweetheart,” McCree says, cupping his face. “I’ll tell my boss, you an’ I will grab a car and drive there, and we ain’t stopping until we find him.” Genji sobs, crushing into his chest. McCree holds him close, tightly, realizing loving Hanzo means so much more than just a relationship with him because Genji will always be there with them. Even with his heart aching, McCree smiles, bringing Genji’s lean body into him. There’s more than enough room for the brat, for the charming and enthralling lover that made him lose his head and get caught. No wonder Hanzo loves him so, how not to love his sweetness, his mischief, the unwavering demonstrations of love he gives so freely and devotedly it hurts. “Genji,” McCree whispers, cradling him in his arms while Genji fists the back of his shirt and clings to him. “I’m with ya’.”

“Thank you,” Genji mumbles against his broad chest, glancing up at him without a single tear smearing his flushed cheeks. He’s stronger than that and tears won’t help them find Hanzo.

“I need you to know that you’re not alone and that I won’t let anything bad happen to Hanzo.”

“Jesse,” Genji gasps, standing on his tiptoes to kiss him. Their lips brush shyly. Genji drags his mouth over McCree in a way he has never before, so subtle, not lacking passion but pouring so much tenderness into the kiss that he feels defenseless. Jesse is even ashamed of wanting to deepen it with an impatient tongue. He’s so different from Hanzo and at the same time, so alike he can recognize both in the soft-heartened smooch. A low grunt reverberates in his throat, and McCree traps his bottom lip and caresses it with a glide of his tongue. He reluctantly pulls away, peppering kisses along his velvety lips and stealing the ghost of a smile.

“Ready?” McCree asks with a wolfish grin, trying to push his worries to the back of his head so he can be his better self for Genji and for Hanzo.

“I need to stop by the apartment first and grab my equipment,” Genji says with a sly smile. “In case we face trouble.”

“Equipment?” McCree frowns.

“I’m not just a pretty boy, Jesse,” Genji quips, arching an eyebrow at him. “I trained as much as Hanzo in my youth, I’ll even dare to say I wield the sword with more dexterity but don’t tell him that or he will insist on dueling to prove me wrong,” he winks at him.

“Damn me, If I don’t wanna see that,” McCree says between chuckles as they both walk swiftly inside the improvised headquarters to talk to the commander.

“We must find him first,” Genji mumbles, breathing out the momentary peace they found in each other and focusing on his brother’s fate. They’ve been together all their lives and if Hanzo says he will call, he calls. Something’s amiss and they need to find him before it’s too late. As much as he tries to, Genji cannot shake the awful feeling churning his stomach and snitching that they already are.

 

The first thing he feels as he regains consciousness is an excruciating pain in his left side. Hanzo groans, opening his eyes wide in the darkened room. The smell and taste of blood cling to his mouth, and Hanzo swallows thickly with a grimace, trying to relax and evaluate the damages. He tugs at the restrains at his back, his wrists are tied up together, same as his ankles to the legs of a metal chair. The binding is rudimental, cutting the blood flow from his hands and scratching painfully his skin. _Amateurs_ , he curses inwardly. Hanzo fills his lungs, which grants him with a surge of pain, but luckily, there is no major injury except for a surely mean bruise that will take a few days to heal. Even though his arms hang free at the back of the chair he cannot stand up because of the restraints on his legs. He’d achieved nothing more than to fall face down the floor.

The last thing he remembers is struggling inside the car, trying to reach for his phone to call Genji, and then that devilish grin and how Akande narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose right before he knocked him out. That explains the taste of blood in his mouth and the wetness running down his temple which suggest he hasn’t been here long. Hanzo moves his face and grimaces in pain. A split eyebrow, probably. His vision seems to be fine as long as he can check in a darkened room, but he has an intent headache pounding in his head and preventing him to think clearly.

He needs to find out where he is and try to break free from the ties before… the lights blind him momentarily, and Hanzo shuts his eyes as a reflex, blinking repeatedly and opening his eyes a slit to peek through. The menacing shape of Akande enters the room. Something stirs inside him at the sight of the man, smiling smugly and prowling around him like a predator ready to hunt his prey. Hanzo clenches his jaw and grits his teeth when Akande chuckles, circling the chair in measured steps while he cracks his knuckles. His surroundings distract him, he recognizes traits in the room that could belong to any house, but a general sensation of familiarity invades him unmercifully. He feels strangely at home, the smell, the colors, the noises outside only disturbed by Akande’s loud steps along the room. This isn’t any Japanese household. Hanzo opens his mouth wide, frowning even though it hurts.

“This is my home,” Hanzo snarls, recognizing the tatami, the pattern on the walls, the smell of the wooden rafters and cherry blossoms.

“It doesn’t matter that you know where you are, Hanzo,” Akande says, placing both his big, heavy hands on top of his shoulders. “You won’t slip through my fingers so easily this time.” His lips caress the shell of his ear and Hanzo shivers against his will.

“What are you doing in the Hanamura castle?” His ragged breath sends needles through his bruised ribs, and as much as he tries to steady his breathing, the upcoming rage coiling in his stomach doesn't let him.

Akande’s laugh resonates at his back, his thumbs tracing circles over his shoulders and up to his nape. The touch is gentle, easing the pain of the position in which he’s tied up, but he won’t fool him with meaningless caresses, he knows where this is leading and he is far from safe. “How fortunate you were heading to see the elders, otherwise it would’ve taken me longer to find you,” Akande says. “But I would have found you, Hanzo,” he whispers.

“Answer my question,” Hanzo growls, earning a far from gentle squeeze on his shoulders.

“I didn’t really need you,” Akande mutters, prowling around him to face Hanzo’s sharp features marred by his fist but still breathtakingly gorgeous. “You were a fleeting whim.” Hanzo stares into those harsh, soulless eyes ignited by war and conflict, like the perfect rush from the perfect drug. Akande has no secrets for him any longer, and though he wants to pretend, he isn’t hurt about his previous rejection, he is, and the corner of his lip twitches upward. “The elders knew about me since the beginning, they were kind enough to provide a safe place for me and my people.”

Traitors. His father knew the truth beneath the Hanamura crime scene and yet he pushed him into a cesspool along with the others. It doesn’t really surprise him, his number one rule is to expect betrayal from close allies more than from enemies. “How convenient,” Hanzo says, wondering for how long he’s been in the dark about this and how timely he collected his fair share from Talon before it was too late.

“They clearly saw the benefits you failed to see,” Akande says smugly before a finger traces Hanzo’s jaw, smearing a trail of dried up blood that was stuck on his goatee. “You disappoint me, Hanzo.” Akande sighs, meeting his gaze intently while his hand cups his jaw in a tight grip, forcing him to tilt his head up. “With Talon you could truly fulfill your destiny.”

Hanzo snorts, a mischievous smile stretching his lips. “Find another errand boy, Akande,” he snarls. The hit comes unannounced, fast, ruthless and hurts, but his quip was worth the pain when he has managed to make Akande snap, a luxury he clearly cannot afford but absolutely satisfying.

“You’re lucky I don’t want to kill you,” Akande mumbles, caressing tenderly the swollen cheekbone and the forming bruise. Hanzo pays him with a blunt façade that reveals nothing. No pain, no fear, no rage. The dragons feed on his weaknesses and fuel his strengths, they always have, and maybe the Shimada-gumi is in its death throes but as long as he and Genji rule Hanamura Hanzo won’t lose his honor nor his pride to worthless men like Akande. That Genji is safe with Jesse almost breaks his resolve and brings a smile to his face, but he keeps the good things for himself too, to endure what’s coming.

“Maybe your brother will be more reasonable.”

“Leave him out of this,” Hanzo growls. “You got what you wanted.”

“Almost everything.” His eyes linger a tad too long over his lips, but Akande turns about and grasps his hands at his back. “I will take what I want from your city with the help of the elders, having you under my protection will soothe the allies still loyal to you.”

“Against my will.”

“Don’t lose yourself in the details,” Akande teases, glancing at him over his shoulder before he turns around once more with a new, wide grin on his face. “Meanwhile, I have yet to find out what you wanted from me if it wasn’t sex.” Hanzo smirks, chuckling softly even when Akande tugs harshly at his hair, messing his ponytail and forcing his head back. Akande towers over him, the chair tilts back slightly, the loss of balance unable to steal the smirk from Hanzo’s face. “We have all night, Hanzo. No one is coming for you, no one knows you’re here and I can make a man talk but I will make you sing.”

“Hardly a challenge,” Hanzo brags, partly feigning his courage at how true those words are, but also feeling the dragons stir within him, goading him to fight until his last breath. The only thing Akande will coax from him will be blood and pain.

 

Convincing Gabriel that they wanted to go look for Hanzo is easier than McCree expected, which means the commander isn’t so sure that the older Shimada is safe either. It will still take some time to go through the information contained in Sombra’s device, which gives them time to find Hanzo -because they have to find him- and trace a plan of action. McCree watches Genji getting ready with him, sliding the comms device into his ear with a naturalness that surprises McCree. One could have thought the military atmosphere would have intimidated the brat, but far from it, he looked excited and watchful of his surroundings as they walked to the car. Genji asks questions, McCree answers them, probably to distract them both of the tasks at hand until they reach the location. He finds his curiosity adorable.

“How long have you been in Blackwatch?” Genji asks as he gets in the passenger seat.

“Since I was eighteen,” McCree says, starting the car and waving to the security squad posted at the door while they leave the headquarters behind.

“What do you _do_ here exactly?”

“I bet you already guessed we’re not an orthodox unit,” McCree teases. And they’re not. “We carry out black ops missions.”

“You do what Overwatch can’t due to public opinion,” Genji puts together.

“Somethin’ like that, sweet pie,” McCree turns about and winks at him.

“I like it,” Genji whispers, glancing out the window and getting lost in his thoughts. McCree focuses on the road again, wishing he had a smoke to burn his nerves out. At least Peacekeeper at his right gives him the illusion of safety. He fits downright in Blackwatch since the first moment he knew an ordinary military life wouldn’t be for him. He’s a good guy who fights the bad guys but likes to do it without bureaucracy dictating what’s right or wrong, and the way to do it is at Gabriel’s command.

The first stop is Hanzo’s apartment, where Genji comes in as the little brat and comes out with a katana on his back and a wakizashi at his waist. McCree straightens as soon as he eyes a silent and dark-clothed Genji come out of the hall like a shadow. Black stretchy jeans hug his body and give him freedom of movement while a long sleeve black shirt conceals his presence. It clenches his stomach at the same time it prickles all the little hairs at his nape. Genji gives him an appreciative wink and passes by him, heading to the door because they have no time to spare, but McCree grasps his elbow and pulls him close, leaning down to steal an inappropriate kiss and a soft whine from him. No words, no jokes, just a kiss in a familiar place with no prying eyes around. They need the comfort that the closeness provides and, with a reassuring smile and a jerky nod from Genji, they’re on their way once more.

Genji’s heart beats faster as they get closer to their destination, meticulously checking the route on his phone even if he knows this road by heart. No more banter to ease the atmosphere, just a deep strangling silence of a shared anxiousness at what they will find. Genji is far from stupid, and he knows he won’t like what he will find if they even find something more than a phone tossed in the middle of the road. Hanzo probably didn’t even reach the elders in time and it churns his stomach to think about what has happened to his brother. They have never been apart, not even for a few days, and though Genji cherishes his independence and freedom and lives a life of his own, Hanzo is the pillar that holds him up.

“Damn,” McCree curses, breaking Genji free from his thoughts.

“Hanzo!” Genji yells as soon as he eyes Hanzo’s car trashed on a ditch at a side of the road.

As soon as McCree stops the vehicle, Genji gets out and runs toward the crash site, his heart thumping while his breath hitches. The lights of the car are still on, the engine off, and the door has been yanked and tossed aside. It wasn’t a fatal accident, the airbags didn’t even go off, but there is no trace of Hanzo and it offers little comfort. Genji sneaks inside the opening, looking for something that will throw a little light to what happened. He finds Hanzo’s phone between the front seats and Genji grunts in frustration. The lack of blood or major signs of distress are, somehow, a relief, but he would have loved to find him here. Now, without the help of the GPS, how are they going to find him?

Meanwhile, McCree clenches his jaw and inspects the scene. His first instinct is to call the commander, but he needs more to tell him. There are signs of another vehicle in the ground and black skids on the road, barely visible in the darkness of the night. A heavy turn, a burst of speed. Images of Hanzo forced to crash on a side of the road terrify him and McCree swallows a lump in his throat at the situation and how powerless he feels. Hanzo’s car has several marks on the rear, the trunk is half opened, and the discarded door isn’t there by accident. Who the hell can yank a dented and probably stuck door so easily? Whatever happened here, there was another car involved, and under such a direct threat, Talon has managed to follow Hanzo somehow and bust his car by force. How? And what else could it be?

“He’s not here, Jesse,” Genji says, his ragged breath and eyes sparkling with despair betraying the calmed stance he kept on the ride here.

“There was another car,” McCree says, pointing at the marks of tires on the road and tracks on the ground. “Whoever was responsible for Hanzo’s accident took him with them.”

“Where?” Genji turns about, glancing at the debris and narrowing his eyes.

“If I had to guess, I’d go to where Hanzo was headed,” McCree says, closing the distance and placing a heavy hand on Genji’s shoulder. “He didn’t even reach his destination, but it ain’t safe here, we need to keep going.”

“I need to find him,” Genji says, clenching his fists at both sides of his body.

“We will,” McCree says, taking his phone out of his pocket, ready to call Gabe. “Hanzo’s alive, they could have killed him in cold blood right here -a frisson goes right through his spine and, by the look in Genji’s eyes, a shudder curls his too- but they didn’t,” he hurries to fix.

“Knowing Talon has his hands on my brother offers little comfort,” he mumbles.

“We don’t even know if this is Talon’s doing,” McCree says, waiting impatiently for Gabe to answer the call. His hand shakes slightly, and he curses inwardly and mumbles a blue streak of _pick-up_ with his lips until the ringtone gets interrupted. “Gabe,” he says, but then the commander starts talking too fast things that don’t reach his brain. “Wait.” McCree puts the phone on speaker while Genji steps closer.

“It’s good kid, there’s more here than we expected.” The voice of the commander comes out distorted but clear, and McCree and Genji lock eyes. “There are blueprints of the place, exits, schedules, those bastards are organized and we know everything from where they keep weapons to where they eat. We even have access to codes, files, passwords, contacts on his phone…”

“How does that help us? We found Hanzo’s car crashed into a ditch and no trace of him.” McCree holds his breath. The commander will settle for an attack on Talon and forget Hanzo for now.

“No clue of where he is?”

“Nothing,” McCree says. “We’re near the crash site, on the road to the Hanamura castle.”

“Jesse,” Gabriel says. “Talon _is_ in the Hanamura castle. If they took Hanzo he’s there. I’ll look into it.” Genji’s eyes open wide in a mixture of hatred at those bastards in his childhood home and hope at having Hanzo so close. The silence through the line invites Gabriel to keep talking. “Go there, I need your eyes so we can plan an attack now. Send me what you see, patrols, an estimation of the men guarding the place and anything we could use, you know the drill.”

“Yes, sir,” McCree says, a wolfish grin growing wide because this is it. Hanzo has to be there, and he’s going to get him back.

“Keep your comms open and, kid, don’t do anything stupid.”

McCree and Genji get in the car once more with renewed eagerness. That is why Blackwatch couldn’t find Talon in the industrial area, it was exactly what Athena suggested and what he and the commander suspected: a lure to keep them busy while Talon hid in plain sight oblivious to the Shimadas and the crime scene except for the elders. The bastards betrayed Hanzo since the beginning, and if it were not for Blackwatch, the Shimadas would be dead by now. The thought shrinks his heart, and even though he was relieved at first, now his mind goes to dark places to why would the leader of Talon take Hanzo prisoner if not for a personal grudge. Everything has to do with how Hanzo lured Akande to believe he had an interest in him that didn’t add up with an open declaration of war in the end. Personal grudges end up badly, at least for the one kidnapped. And if Akande finds out about the copy of his phone... McCree speeds up the car, sinking his foot on the accelerator. His mind goes a mile an hour thinking about Hanzo that he almost misses Genji’s indications.

“Turn right in about a hundred meters.”

“There’s no road ahead,” McCree says, frowning.

“Trust me,” Genji says. “I know this place like the back of my hand.”

Genji proves to be just the insight help they need to run such a huge operation in so little time. Unlike the strike commander, Gabriel Reyes doesn’t hesitate and mobilizes all the agents and teams under his charge to besiege the Hanamura castle. Even so, they have to be discreet, which isn’t hard by the woods surrounding the property, a deserted hill separated from the city and the town at its feet. But Blackwatch excels at this kind of operations, at working relentlessly against the clock and achieving the best results. The past months could culminate here, tonight.

The place holds such beauty McCree sees with completely different eyes what Hanzo and Genji’s childhood was. They grew up as rich peers of the society, almost like royalty, and he wonders why aren’t they still living like kings in their own empire high atop a hill with the whole Hanamura at their feet. McCree hesitates for half a second, knowing Hanzo wants Genji nowhere near the elders or the castle, but nothing will convince Genji to stay behind and, to be honest, McCree doubts he’d be able to knock him down and keep him safe.

By how Genji moves along the perimeter of the property, McCree smiles inwardly at the many times the brat has slipped out the place to party. The castle is enormous, and even with the map Gabe provided, he’d have a hard time finding the secret doors and entrances Genji points out for Blackwatch. He’s amazed at how efficiently Genji works, how he turns all that energy and vivacity into a single purpose and shines through.

“Maintain your position,” Gabriel says through the comms, activated since the operation started officially.

“Yes, sir,” McCree whispers, motioning with Genji behind a grove of cherry trees to wait.

Genji’s eyes reflect the moonlight, open wide in the dark, with the expression of a hyperactive cat that doesn’t want to miss a thing. “We need to get in,” Genji says. “According to the commander, this is the area most likely to held prisoners.” He roams with a finger the south-east of the property in the map on his phone, an area he knows well because it was a part of the castle open to guests when their parents organized a big party or a gathering for the Hanami festival, and the rest of the year, it was where he and Hanzo met surreptitiously. Japanese houses are not prepared to accommodate a large military operative, and so far, they’ve seen couples of guards patrolling the exterior. They will have more inside, but they’d be equated in number. Talon has been here for more months than they imagined and surely has adapted the property to their interests. The element of surprise is their real asset.

“Not yet,” McCree says, even though his first instinct is to consider how fast can they get in and out with Hanzo, assuming they haven’t moved him somewhere else. The thought sends a frisson through his body and sets a lump on his throat. If they take him out of Hanamura, it would be almost impossible to track him down. It could take months even if he survives as a prisoner and the deeds don’t change. He’s alive because Talon needs Hanzo, otherwise… “We have to wait for orders.”

“But Hanzo…” Genji mutters, shifting nervously, ready to sprint to the fence in front of him to climb it and sneak inside. “I could go in unnoticed.”

“We’re a team,” McCree says, grasping his elbow and considering pinning him to the ground if he tries to flee. “I trust my boss and his decisions. Trust me on this one, sweetheart.” His speech doesn’t change the uneasiness in Genji’s gaze, as though trusting and working with others for the same means is something foreign and new to him.

“What if we arrive late? If we fail?” Genji’s pleading eyes shrink his heart.

“I promise, you’re gonna sleep between us tonight, sweet pie,” McCree drawls in a flirty voice that pulls the corner of his lip upward even when he fears everything will go wrong. McCree cups his face, cold by the night air. “We’ll get him back.”

The comms crack briefly, startling them both. McCree focuses, waiting patiently. “They know we’re here,” Gabriel informs. “Get in there with the ninja and find the other Shimada.”

“Ready to roll, boss,” McCree says. The commander is in position and the teams ready to swarm the place in a surprise attack. His orders are clear. It didn’t take long to convince Gabriel to include Genji in this operation, his intel is irreplaceable, and when McCree informed him about the katana and his background, the commander agreed.

“Ninja?” Genji chuckles at the nickname.

“Let’s use the diversion,” McCree says, slinking near the wall, closely followed by Genji. “They take Talon down while we get Hanzo back.”

Genji wraps his arms around his waist and lands a lovely kiss on his cheek. “For good luck,” he says right before he climbs skillfully the impossibly high wall and disappears atop the limits of the property. “Follow the wall, there’s an entrance up ahead.”

McCree sports a wolfish grin, his cheek blushed and hot by the peck. He draws Peacekeeper out, the heaviness of the revolver sending a surge of adrenaline through his arm. “I know you’re there even if I can’t see you, sweet pie,” he croons in a low rumble, trusting the silent companion along the wall. A soft chuckle above him infuses some more courage in him. The commander nailed the nickname, now they only need the other ninja safe.

 

Another blow, this time near his ribs, has Hanzo grimacing in a spiral of endless pain even though he is aware Akande isn’t using the expanse of his strength. He’s like a mean cat playing with a mouse. As soon as he recovers his breath, he glares at Akande who hasn’t broken a sweat even if he’s been beating him up for the past half an hour or so. Keeping track of time is getting hard for Hanzo, to be honest, not losing consciousness too.

“I find your lack of belief troubling,” Akande says. He has taken off his jacket, and his shirt hugs his elbows right below the fullness of his biceps, stretching the sleeves. “The world needs a war to evolve, a conflict.”

“And you are the one providing?” Hanzo snorts, even though it hurts.

“Talon is the flame, and, unlike Overwatch, I’m not standing in the way of evolution,” Akande grunts, closing the two strides that separate them swiftly and tugging at his hair. His ponytail is long gone, and Hanzo lifts his chin proudly at Akande, staring unabashedly into those ungentle eyes. Strands of hair stick on his forehead and cheeks by blood and sweat. “I know they’re searching Hanamura looking for me. Have you helped them, Hanzo?” A smirk creeps up Hanzo’s split lip unavoidably. “Don’t test my patience…” his breath puffing against his mouth prickles the little hairs at his nape.

“I have no knowledge,” Hanzo says.

“I almost believe you.” Akande tugs at his hair and grips his jaw with a big, strong hand unaffected by the beating. “It’s not too late for you.” He hesitates for a moment, a hint of doubt crossing his eyes, flicking for half a second to Hanzo’s abused lips. “Join me,” Akande demands in an authoritative tone that goads Hanzo to refuse.

“No, I will find my own path.”

Akande’s face is unreadable. A mixture of disappointment and frustration at what he wants and cannot have. He’s a man used to get what he wants every single time, and if not, he takes it by force, but this is something he cannot attain, something so far away from his reach it pains him deeply. “You’re beautiful even like this,” Akande mumbles, his mouth betraying his actions after so many unmerciful blows.

Hanzo is exhausted, but he clings to whatever strength he has left with no prospect of a rescue anytime soon. He won’t let any hint of useless hope that someone is coming for him crawl inside his mind. He hopes Genji is far away from this place and the danger it presents, he hopes Jesse finds what he needs for Blackwatch, but he knows he won’t get out of this without consequences. It is a matter of time that Akande grows tired of this game and kills him, or worse, drags him into a cell to rot. For whatever purpose he’s keeping him alive it won’t last forever. The elders will pay for this too, after everything he has done for them, securing their wealth, making them rich without lifting a finger only because of the respect he has for his family and tradition and they betrayed him without batting an eye. “I thought you found the elders obsolete,” Hanzo says, making up conversation to pause the beating and the interrogation.

“A temporary alliance,” Akande says, sparing caresses along his cheekbone as freely as he spared hits. “I will get rid of them. Does the betrayal sting?” he purrs with a contented smile.

“You did me a favor.” Hanzo manages a half-smile. If Talon succeeds the elders are doomed and if he gets out of this mess, they will have to run far away from Hanamura, and even then, Hanzo will make sure they pay for their crimes against the Shimada-gumi. They will lose more than their fingers to atone for this.

“What did you want from me on that hotel, Hanzo?” Akande asks, his ruthless eyes scrutinizing for any sign of weakness in his face. Hanzo’s breath hitches, a pain so entwined to his movements now that it’s the only thing keeping him awake. As long as he feels he’s alive. “The elders snitched on you.” A frown knits Hanzo’s eyebrows. “Told me you were considering an alliance with Blackwatch, and I fooled myself believing you were merely playing with them when you were playing with me.”

“You got what you deserved if you knew and stepped into the dragon’s den,” Hanzo says, expecting a blow that does not come.

“I won’t make that mistake twice,” Akande mumbles, his hand stroking Hanzo’s jaw and down to his neck, grasping a loose fist around it. “It’d be so easy…” he whispers, testing how soft and tender is his flesh, like putty under his hand. Hanzo swallows, feeling the tightness of Akande’s grip while his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, but he defies the man in front of him without fear. He won’t give him that satisfaction.

“But you have,” Hanzo growls, his voice coming out guttural and low. Akande releases him and he coughs, clearing his throat. “Do whatever you want, Akande, but there is nothing in Hanamura for you,” Hanzo mutters.

The grin on Akande’s face sends a shudder through his spine. “I will be leaving in the morning,” he says and then chuckles. “ _We_ will be leaving.” Hanzo almost chokes at the prospect of leaving the country, with little chance of escape, unable to see Genji, alone for the first time in his life. A salve calms his mind. With Jesse. Hanzo knows the cowboy will move heaven and earth to get him back against his better judgment. Love is a fleeting thing that can steal everything you have or be the greatest treasure you never expected to find. McCree is the second one, giving more than he takes, turning a dull life into so much more. He will take care of Genji in his absence, and if they discover Talon’s secrets in Akande’s phone perhaps there is still hope for him too.

Not long ago Hanzo would be asking for his death without remorse, fighting and spilling blood at his feet by the command of the elders or his father. He has come a long way to be the man he is now, something more than what they told him.

Akande’s phone rings and he takes it out to answer the call, turning his back at him. “What?” he snarls, glancing over his shoulder to gift Hanzo with a glare that is meant to kill. “How did they find us?” Hanzo blinks, staring at Akande pacing along the room as he speaks. “It’s not possible! Who compromised our location?” A nervous chuckle comes out of Hanzo unannounced and soon it turns into a mad laugh that grasps Akande’s attention toward him again. Hanzo licks the corner of his mouth, tasting the blood and reveling in the sting. It’s them. Blackwatch found and cornered the leader of Talon, and not even the bruising in his face and ribs could prevent him from laughing. “Ready the aircraft and send a team to my location.” He hangs up, glaring at Hanzo while he goes to the exit of the room and opens it wide. A soft breeze comes in and Hanzo breathes in the familiar scent of cherry blossoms that linger in the Hanamura castle especially around his time of the year. He should visit this place more often, there are bad memories but there are also good ones, a place where he found peace once with Genji and their mother. His heart thumps, everything aches, from his face to his ribs to every single breath he takes, but the dragons growl and goad him to keep fighting.

“Gather a team, we have to retreat,” Akande barks to the men posted outside. “What do security say?”

“Numerous teams swarming the castle, sir,” he says, two fingers on his ear while he translates the information he gets from Talon’s presence around the castle. “Most posts aren’t answering, and there are reports of two agents opening his way towards you, sir.” Hanzo overhears, and the thought of Jesse here clenches his stomach in much more pain than he could ever feel, fearing for him. He isn’t worth the trouble, or he’s too tired to give a shit anymore. And Genji… he hopes he isn’t here but nothing would keep his brother out of this. Akande comes into the room again, crouching in front of him and undoing the ties at his feet, grasping rudely his jacket with both hands and helping Hanzo stand up. His legs are wobbly and he trips, but a strong hand keeps him upright.

“Running away, Akande?” Hanzo teases. A loud shot close to their position muffles Akande’s groan of frustration.

“I’m not done with you, Hanzo,” Akande drags him out by the arm, and Hanzo trudges behind him, uselessly complaining at the excruciating pain that has him hunched over himself with the arms still painfully numb hanging at his back. “You’re coming with me.” Akande groans, pushing Hanzo outside in front of him when he stumbles and discovers, to his surprise that the two men he just talked to lay unconscious on the ground.

“I don’t think so,” McCree drawls, cocking his head to a side as he avoids looking at the state of Hanzo and, instead, focuses all his rage in the broad man in front of him. The barrel of Peacekeeper pointing directly at his head from a safe enough distance. Jesse McCree does not miss.

“You know, McCree,” Akande spits, recognizing the sneaky Blackwatch agent that was getting too close to Hanzo, and he wasn’t able to get his hands on. “The winning side would pay much better. Maybe, buy yourself some real clothes?” The leader of Talon puts Hanzo in front of him as a shield, his right hand wrapped menacingly around his neck tighter than moments ago. Hanzo grunts, unable to fight the strangling grip without hands and the little energy he has left in him.

“I’ve got a bullet with your name on it.” McCree meets Hanzo’s gaze and his stomach curls in despair. The swells and bruises on his cheeks and eye, the split eyebrow and lip. He wants to roar and shoot that man straight in the face, but they don’t do things like that in Blackwatch. “Keep your hands off of him,” McCree snarls in a menacing tone.

“I might lose, but you can’t win,” Akande says, tightening his ruthless grip on Hanzo. “Shoot me and he dies.” McCree narrows his eyes, his hand firm still pointing his gun at him. Occasional gunshots and bursts of bullets disturb the peaceful night, suggesting Blackwatch is securing the ground along the property faster than expected. The first thing Gabriel’s team took ahold of was the arsenal which left the rest of the teams wanting to equip themselves for the assault defenseless.

“We got you,” McCree threats. “How ‘bout you surrendering so maybe I don’t have to put a bullet between your eyes?”

Akande laughs, strangling Hanzo with white-knuckle force, holding him high up so he has to stand up on his tiptoes. McCree’s heart races against the clock, mumbling curses and knocking back the hammer, ready to shoot. Hanzo’s face is red, desperate for air, and knowing they need a bit more time while Gabriel secures their position, he lowers his arm, Peacekeeper pointing at the ground in front of him. One thing McCree has learned these years at Gabriel Reyes’ command is when to pick your fights and…

“I thought so,” Akande says, loosening the grip while Hanzo gasps desperately for air and locks eyes with McCree.

“How about a blade through your throat?” Genji says, coming out from behind Akande, his katana sliding dangerously close to his throat while his wakizashi pokes his back, menacing a fatal injury.

… and when to trust your team to win your battles. Hanzo attempts a smile of relief, knowing the cowboy would never give up his life, that he would never yield to Akande. He can read the determination in his eyes. He is taking him home with him tonight and no one can stop him. Akande releases him and Hanzo falls to his knees, coughing while the leader of Talon lifts his arms at both sides of his body, surely feigning a surrender to earn time.

“Be careful,” Hanzo says, his voice hoarse. He tries to meet Genji’s gaze but his brother pierces Akande’s throat with a death-threatening look, ready to snap and slice his flesh at the slightest sign of struggle. “There are… -Hanzo clears his throat-… Talon reinforcements coming here,” he finishes, glancing at Jesse, who hurries to help him up and put distance between them and Akande. McCree rummages with his left hand for a pocket knife and cuts through the bindings easily, freeing Hanzo’s arms.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” McCree says, helping Hanzo wrap an arm around his waist to support himself while he points his gun again to Akande. “I gotcha.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says, arching an eyebrow at the cowboy and suddenly aware of the droplet of blood that drips down his neck at the unexpected movement of his throat brushing the blade as he speaks.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Genji hisses.

Noise from their left side grabs McCree’s attention, and he turns, placing Hanzo protectively behind himself and watching how a group of at least five armed men run toward him. The first projectile passes right in front of his eyes like the most terrifying warning. “Jesse!” Genji yells, forgetting Akande and dashing forward, thinking only about Hanzo and Jesse’s safety. It’s been a long time since he trained, and he makes himself a solemn promise to do it every day from now on, honing the gifts he learned as a child under the blessing of the dragon. Genji deflects the bullets shot on their way, taking down two of the men with their own ammunition.

Akande uses the opportunity to run and take cover behind them like the coward he is. “Forget them! We need to get to the aircraft,” Akande commands, fleeing from there, knowing neither of them would leave Hanzo behind in this condition in the middle of a battleground.

McCree fires angry bullets to the escaping party until there is not a single one left on the cylinder. He cannot reload single-handed, so he keeps his revolver on his holster and gets a better hold of a Hanzo who struggles to stay on his feet. “Damn bastard,” he curses. “What did he do to you, honey?”

“I am fine,” Hanzo grunts. Genji sheathes his katana at his back, reaching for Hanzo’s other side to help McCree. He presses his forehead on his brother’s head, sighing in relief at having him in his arms, though he needs a doctor.

“The hell you are, darlin’,” McCree mutters, using his free hand to speak through the comms and inform the commander. “Boss, we got Hanzo, he’s injured. Akande’s running away with a group of men to the southeast of the property.” A crackling sound and a pause and they get an answer.

“Go back to the base,” Gabriel commands.

“We can’t let him run away,” Genji says, a deep frown between his eyebrows and a bloodthirsty look in his eyes.

“We got our orders,” McCree says, pointing with his head to the path behind them so they can carry Hanzo back to the vehicle. He’d love to run after Akande and make him pay, but not with Hanzo like this. It’s breaking his heart. Blackwatch will do their part without them.

“Following orders sucks, Akande’s getting away!” Genji protests, noticing they are carrying most of Hanzo’s weight and that his brother can’t even keep his head straight up. Concern invades him more than the desire for revenge.

“Pretty much, sweet pie,” McCree says. “But that’s how things work ‘round here, and I’m more worried ‘bout Hanzo, we need to get him to a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Hanzo grunts, squeezing his waist to make a point. McCree clasps his hand around his, interlacing their fingers together and relishing in the contact that infuses Hanzo with hope and warms his heart.

“Want me to take ya’ to dinner instead, darlin’?” McCree teases and steals a low chuckle from Hanzo who tries to straighten but limps his way through the castle supported by his little brother and Jesse.

“We’ll take you home, anija,” Genji promises, kissing his head and securing Hanzo’s arm around his shoulders. He meets McCree’s eyes and the cowboy winks at him, unable to help the unbridled joy he feels at having Hanzo safe between their arms. Genji too, worried sick by the injuries they have yet to attend, but glad everything worked out in the end. He realizes that, even now, he wants Akande to pay for his crimes, not only against his brother or the Shimada-gumi but for the foolishness Talon carries within the organization, turning into madness innocent cities and pursuing dreams of conflict while trying to spark the flame of a war the world isn’t ready for. That’s why Overwatch exists, Genji is aware of it now more than he has been in all his life. The world needs more heroes to fight in the shadows, on nights like this, to make the world a better place.

 

No matter how many times he insisted, they ended up at Hanzo’s apartment, and there he is, slumping on the living room couch while Dr. Ziegler tends to Hanzo and his injuries. McCree unfastens the holster and rests Peacekeeper carefully on the coffee table, running a hand through his hair and sighing in relief. A gentle hand squeezes his shoulder.

“You can take a shower in my room,” Genji says. “I’ve left a shirt and a pair of sweatpants for you on the bed.” McCree glances up at him, a sweet smile stretching his lips. “Unless you want to leave.” He winds his arms around his hips and pulls him closer, holding Genji tightly and nuzzling in his stomach while the brat pets his head and threads his fingers between his hair.

“Is Hanzo alright?” McCree asks, looking at him with eyes filled with concern.

“I helped him shower and the cute doctor is with him now,” Genji says. They almost lose Hanzo today, but it’s hard not to feel safe and joyful at being home with him. There is something more in Genji’s mind, about McCree, Blackwatch, and how he felt for the first time that his skills, the grueling training and being taught to kill since he was nothing more than a teenager could help people, a purpose beyond everything his father praised all over the years.

McCree stands, hugging him briefly and kissing his forehead. “You were awesome tonight, sweet pie,” he says with a half-smile, making Genji blush and hide his face on his chest. “You’d make a great agent.”

“You don’t mean that,” Genji mumbles between chuckles.

“Of course, I do!” McCree teases, cupping his face and brushing his lips while a low rumble drums in his throat. “Gonna take that shower and then check up on Hanzo.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Genji stands on his tiptoes and kisses him again, stealing a surprised gasp but filling his heart with warm and tender love. “Thank you, Jesse,” he whispers.

“Anytime, darlin’.”

 

Hanzo feigns a stoic stance while Dr. Ziegler finishes applying a numbing salve on his ribs. The unguent feels cold but when it touches his skin, it warms him up from the inside. The relief is immediate, and he sighs, inspecting the doctor’s face of concentration as she works diligently. He needed stitches on the eyebrow and is bruised and beaten up, but there are no major injuries to take care of except for a minor contusion.

“All patched up,” Dr. Ziegler says, taking off the medical gloves and smiling, satisfied at her work.

“I thank you, Dr. Ziegler,” Hanzo bows lightly his head, straightening on the bed and resting his back over a pool of pillows that Genji arranged for him earlier.

“You should be fine in a couple of days, the bruises will take longer to heal,” Dr. Ziegler says, her deep blue eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses suggesting her words are more orders than merely a recommendation. “Don’t leave the bed. Doctor’s orders.” She arches a questioning eyebrow. Hanzo almost wants to smile at the familiarity and carefulness in which the doctor talks to him, and he wonders if all the agents of Overwatch are naturally this good intentioned or if he’s just been lucky. The word of what he and his brother did is probably common knowledge among their people, he sees a gratefulness he’s not used to receiving.

“I’ll make sure he obeys,” McCree says from the doorstep, walking inside wearing a pair of grey sweatpants too short and tight for him. The corner of Hanzo’s mouth twitches upward at the sight. The black shirt fits better, hugging his torso lovingly, but the ogling still brings a rosy blush to his cheeks.

“Ah! Jesse,” Dr. Ziegler chides him. “The commander told me you can debrief with him tomorrow, but besides that, you have a couple of days off take care of your… -Angela glances back at Hanzo with a knowing smile-… personal affairs.” She clears her throat.

“How the hell?” McCree complains childishly, folding his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know how you play poker so well with those eyes telling the truths for you,” Dr. Ziegler says and sighs, keeping her equipment back into her medical case and standing in front of a grinning cowboy.

“Thank you, Angie, you’re the best,” McCree says, giving her a peck on the cheek while she pats him on the back and walks toward the door. There is no better doctor in Overwatch, and they’ve been lucky to have her around because her research and work at Switzerland keeps her from assignments like this one. In fact, she will be leaving in less than two weeks. McCree has missed her, the endless chastising for his smoking habits, the late-night coffees at the lab. He’s been away from the base for so long that the familiarity of Angela is like a balm to his soul that reminds him he’s not so alone as he thought when he started working for Blackwatch.

“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Shimada,” Dr. Ziegler says. “I hope next time we meet in better circumstances.”

“So do I,” Hanzo says politely before the doctor leaves.

McCree sits beside him on the bed, ghosting his fingers over Hanzo’s bare chest and frowning at the bruises on his neck. “Ya’ scared the shit out of me today,” he says, meeting his gaze.

“You came for me,” Hanzo says with a sly smile, taking McCree’s hand and kissing the palm, pressing it to his lips and face only to feel its warmth, his touch. “I owe you an apology.”

“You don’t, sweetheart,” McCree says, a shy smile pulling the corner of his mouth upward.

“I am sorry, Jesse,” Hanzo says, looking intently into those gentle eyes that speak of love and steal his reason. “I should have confided in you.”

“M’sorry too, honey.” McCree leans forward, kissing him softly on the lips. “There were things we couldn’t tell each other, and I should have told you I loved you sooner.” A wide grin shows up on his face, matching Hanzo’s smirk while they stare at each other with an unwavering love-struck.

“I know,” Hanzo breathes into his mouth, caressing with his tongue the lips that said the truest words he will ever hear. “I love you more.” There is nothing between them anymore, not even themselves, and they commit to a tender kiss to seal their already mingled hearts.

“I ain’t losing you darlin’,” McCree mumbles, rubbing Hanzo’s velvety lips with his own. “By good right you’re mine.” Hanzo chuckles, complaining softly at the movement on his bruised ribs, and falling slack over the pillows with hooded lids and a dopey smile McCree would swear is a side effect of the painkillers and not his kisses.

“Genji?” Hanzo asks.

“Ya’ know I love your bub too, but I reckon he’s not ready to hear it yet,” McCree teases.

“I meant where is he,” Hanzo says with a smug smile. “But you may be right.”

McCree blushes and shakes his head. “Living room. Want me to fetch him?” Hanzo nods a negative, snuggling into the pillows while McCree covers him with the sheets. “Try to get some shut-eye, darlin’. I promise you’ll wake up with us by your side.”

 

_A few weeks later_

The commander and the rest of the team arrested most of the operatives the night of the attack, by the time they noticed they were under siege, they had confiscated the weapons and the personnel had no other choice but to run away or surrender. Casualties were kept at a minimum, in a surprise attack orchestrated in a few hours thanks to the Shimadas and Gabriel Reyes’ tenacity. Regarding the unfortunate escape of Talon’s leader, Blackwatch had no air support to follow or take down an aircraft without risking unnecessary losses, and though it stung as a defeat, the blow to Talon, even if it wasn’t deadly, crushed their present and future plans to implicate themselves into the Hanamura scene. To McCree, having Hanzo safe and sound between his arms was a victory untarnished by nothing.

Even with Hanzo’s warning about Akande’s intention to travel to Numbani and ruin the Unity Day trying to steal the gauntlet, Overwatch was unable to stop him. The city didn’t allow the organization to meddle in the event and took lightly the endless information the strike commander personally dropped on their leaders. The inevitable result was a defeat that destroyed Numbani’s airport and Doomfist’s gauntlet was, indeed, stolen. Not even the OR15 units designed to protect the city from Doomfist were able to stand up a fight.

These past weeks in the Hanamura scene, on the other hand, have been an endless parade of meetings for Hanzo and the Shimada-gumi. As he suspected, his allies stood by his side, and with Talon out of the picture even the most reticent families accepted his new leadership and rejected the elders. The council dissolved the night of the attack, half of them arrested and the other half still missing though Hanzo works hard to find them and make them pay for his crimes.

The Hanamura castle is once more under the Shimada family wing, but not like a sacred place out of reach or the den of the elders. Hanzo keeps its doors open to the citizens and whoever wants to honor the family, the values it represents, or visit the temple. The city accepted the open door policy as a peace offering and as the beginning of a new relationship between the most powerful families in Hanamura and the citizens.

“Ain’t ya’ going to miss him?” McCree asks in a whisper, nudging Hanzo with his shoulder and bringing him back to the present. The loudspeaker announcements from the airport informing that Genji’s flight will board shortly.

“He will come back soon,” Hanzo says with a smile, watching proudly how Genji arranges the suitcases and glances at him in a mixture of excitement and sadness.

After the night of the attack, Genji couldn’t shake off the rush of adrenaline the action gave him, and talked to Hanzo about joining Blackwatch. At first, he was unsure that world would suit his brother’s expectations, and the danger he’ll be exposed didn’t thrill him either, but since Hanzo took over his father’s empire Genji felt out of place in the business, and if he has finally found his passion who is he to stand in the way? The commander of Blackwatch received him with open arms, not to speak about Jesse who spun him around until they both fell on the floor in a fit of laughter.

“I’ll miss you, anija,” Genji says, crushing against his brother’s chest and inhaling deeply his scent for the few weeks that they’ll be apart. The start of many more that will follow. This life, as McCree explained, is sometimes lonely, and Genji will miss Hanzo, that’d be his price to pay for the endless adventures that the cowboy also promised, filling his head with tales of heroes and promising battles that they will share.

“Come back in one piece,” Hanzo says, giving him a chaste peck on the lips.

“You’re gonna love Switzerland,” McCree says and winks, strangling Genji with a huge bear hug that nobody expected.

“Love you, Jesse,” Genji mumbles, hiding his face in the crook of his neck for a moment before stepping aside, glancing one last time at his brother and the cowboy before turning about to walk to the security control and then his new life. “Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do!”

McCree throws an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders and they follow him with their gaze until they lose sight of him in the crowd. “He’ll be fine,” he says.

“I know,” Hanzo says, grateful for Jesse staying with him for a few more weeks while they sort out the details for his next mission. But for now, McCree is Blackwatch’s contact in Hanamura, as the Shimada-gumi and the organization will keep working together from now on, so nothing will keep him away for long. “What will you do on your shore leave, cowboy?”

“I made a deal with my parents,” McCree says, ignoring Hanzo’s flirty tone. “I’ll spend two weeks with them in Christmas so this shore leave, I’m free to whatever your heart wants, darlin’.” Hanzo gets closer, brushing their chests together while he cups his face and stands to bite his lower lip and suck at it gently. McCree grunts something that resembles a purr and wraps his arms around his waist. “And I still got a few months to convince you to come with me.” McCree wiggles his eyebrows playfully. “Genji too. Mom’s gonna love him.”

“You’re mad,” Hanzo says, exhaling a hearty chuckle at the prospect.

“A fool in love, darlin’,” McCree says, cradling him in his arms, not minding the people around them, looking for the flights, fighting with their suitcases. Nobody exists but them.

“What will I do with a cowboy all to myself?” Hanzo teases in a sultry whisper that goes right to McCree’s cock.

“Ride him?”

“Tempting,” Hanzo says, pressing the length of his body against him, turning the cowboy into an impatient wanton that lowers his hands to fondle the small of his back. “Now that I do not have to share you, I want to tie you up and tease you for hours.” Hanzo pours the words into his mouth, caressing the bristled little hairs on McCree’s nape and eliciting a low moan. “I want to make you come as many times as I want however I please, _if_ it pleases me...”

“Yes, darlin’,” McCree whispers, his mouth dry, his cock hard against Hanzo’s thigh and he hasn’t even touched him yet.

“How much will you endure for me, cowboy?” Hanzo teases, muffling a moan with a gentle bite on his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! ೕ(˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ๑) Thank you so much for all your nice comments, for reading along and showing an interest in this little story. I really, really enjoyed writing this fic, and I'm a bit sad and happy that it's over (っ- ‸ – ς)
> 
> It isn't completely over, though! There's another chapter, an epilogue set in a year's time to check up on the boys. It will be all domestic fluff, lots of filthy smut, and more feelings (we always need an extra dose of feelings) and *coughs* a threesome *coughs*
> 
> See y'all next week for the final push!!! ୧( ॑ധ ॑)୨


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Too much fluff, too much porn...... (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

The moment Genji steps into Hanzo’s apartment a wide grin shows up on his face, inhaling deeply the lingering smell of a home he misses badly when he’s away on a mission. It’s been a hard year working for Blackwatch. The first months of training were a challenge, getting used to rules, schedules, and a military life that is so different from the absolute freedom he carried until then, but Genji didn’t give up, worked hard and found his decision, though impulsive, has been one of the best of his life. He spends weeks away from Hanzo or Jesse, trains daily, and it’s not always an easy job; he sports some scars now that remind him every day why he does what he does. Sometimes he’s assigned to work with McCree because the commander soon realized how well they performed undercover together, and those are the best of them all.

Genji chuckles and smiles to himself at the obvious mark of the cowboy in the apartment. There’s a checkered blanket on the couch, surely not Hanzo’s, forgotten mugs on the coffee table, and a pile of blue-rays near the television that gets higher every time he comes back home. Suddenly, he craves a movie night under a blanket between Jesse and Hanzo, listening to the endless complaints of his brother about how cowboy movies make no sense and portray the same characters over and over again and how Jesse laughs and smooches him to shut him up. A trick he has learned to be most useful when Hanzo acts grumpy.

He walks into his room, unpacking the light travel bag he carries and gets ready for a well-deserved shower after a two hours flight from Busan. It was a recon mission, the first one alone with the commander. Gabriel is easy to work with, knows when to be professional and when to go for a beer. They spent their first night drinking in a bar and Genji listened in awe to stories about the omnic war, the early days of Overwatch, and then anecdotes about Jesse and what a troublesome teenager he was. There is a something that startled him from the beginning because Overwatch is so much more than a worldwide security organization. They’re a family, and he has made a place for himself among them. No one judges him for being a yakuza, a Shimada, they respect what he was and what he has chose to become.

But as much as he loves his job, he took an early flight so he could be home a day sooner than expected to surprise McCree and his brother. Genji misses Hanzo, but they see each other whenever they can, which is more often than he initially thought. He has a few days off before he goes back to Watchpoint Gibraltar, and he is excited because he hasn’t seen Angela in a month, and she has become a great friend though, in the battlefield, she always complains about his recklessness. Genji takes his clothes off, stretching and stepping inside the shower cabin. It fills his heart with joy that McCree and Hanzo are making it work, well, the three of them are. Against all odds, this three-way relationship suits them better than any of them expected. The spray of hot water washes away the tension of the travel and the sore muscles, erasing the memories of the common showers at the base, the lack of warm water, and the crowded locker room. This is a luxury he, sometimes, misses more than his dear brother.

It took him a while longer than Hanzo, but McCree has settled in his life and his heart in a way he thought no one would, only his brother. In the past, his lovers and fleeting whims meant nothing more than a distraction. He fell in love more often than not, proof of that is that he fell for the cowboy at first sight, but usually, his crushes didn’t last and he moved on to the next thing. But the cowboy is here to stay, in their home and in their hearts. After what felt like an hour-long shower, Genji gets out, hair dripping droplets on his back and the floor until he grabs a towel and rubs the excess water off. He listens to the front door and a devilish grin brightens up his face. He hopes it’s Hanzo or Jesse, or better: both.

McCree opens the apartment door with one hand while struggling with the two grocery bags in the other. He closes it behind him with a loud thump, leaving the keys on the kitchen counter along with the goods. He rolls his shoulders, blushing slightly at the soft stretch he feels underneath his shirt. When this morning Hanzo told him he would wrap him in red, he expected another day off in bed just the two of them, but Hanzo tied masterfully a beautiful and surprisingly comfortable harness around his chest, arousing him impossibly hard to then leave him with the promise of another unforgettable night just the two together before Genji arrives.

The prospect curls his spine in sheer pleasure and clenches his stomach. The last time Hanzo played with him like this, he drove him to the brink of orgasm with his hands, his mouth, and everything at his reach to deny it from him over and over. At one point, McCree lost count, in a state between drugged and horny, sweaty and desperate under Hanzo’s unmerciful ministrations. Even now it gets him hard just to think about the sweet torture he endured gleefully. He begged, about to give up, he asked for mercy, for release, and Hanzo kept him on edge even then. His sweetheart can be ruthless when it matters or the tenderest lover. His body shudders at the thought of his hand moving softly over his swollen cock, careful not to stimulate him beyond return while Hanzo, with an iron will, remained buried balls-deep inside him, his cock hard and thick, filling him wonderfully. He writhed underneath, arching his spine, sprawling his thighs and whining a blue streak of nonsense just for that final push that seemed to never come. It was unbearable, and then, soft, velvety lips stole his moans. Hanzo pounded into him in an unfailing low tempo, their bodies gliding together in their lovemaking. He showed him wholehearted tenderness at the same time he rode him to his climax with a cock up his ass and a fist around his throbbing erection. McCree passed out right after, spilling spurts of his lust in his own stomach and crying out Hanzo’s name. He woke up moments after cradled in Hanzo’s arms and feeling nothing more than an unswerving love.

He finds himself panting and gripping the kitchen counter with white-knuckle force at the luscious memory invading his mind unmercifully. And he has a huge cockstand because of it too. “Damn it,” he curses, distracting himself putting the groceries away and chuckling softly. Hanzo won’t come back home within two hours, so he better keeps his hands busy making dinner as promised. He clears his throat, organizing the greens and the rest of the ingredients and ready to follow to the letter his mother’s instructions for her stew. Whenever he spends too much time deployed, McCree quickly longs for his home, the one he and Hanzo made here. He grows tired of the hotel rooms, the shitty apartments, and the cold, strange beds, so, when he is home, simple things like making dinner or an evening out with Hanzo warms his heart. McCree cleans his hands in the sink and dries them up with a dishcloth when a familiar voice surprises him.

“Hello, cowboy,” Genji says, leaning on the kitchen door with a mischievous smile and wearing only a pair of boxers. His skin is still rosy by the hot water and his hair damp.

“Genji!” McCree greets, covering the two strides that separate them in a heartbeat. “What are ya’ doing here?” Genji winds his arms around his shoulders and throws himself toward Jesse, wrapping his legs around his waist and holding him close. Jesse chuckles, groping for his ass to secure the brat in his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” Genji mumbles, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. “The last time I came home you were away.”

“Oh! Sweet pie,” McCree teases, turning around to place him on the kitchen counter and cup Genji’s sweet face between his hands.

“I love you,” Genji says with a big smile, pressing his forehead to Jesse’s.

“I love you too, darlin’,” McCree says, catching his mouth between his lips, grunting softly when Genji slides an eager tongue inside his mouth, deepening the kiss. The familiar taste of the cowboy invades him, tobacco, coffee, and sweet, raunchy wet dreams. He brackets his body with his thighs, a hand caressing the little hairs of his nape and pushing him onward. McCree opens his mouth for him, lets him take whatever he wants and melts into a desperate kiss that snitches without words how much he has missed him the past weeks. Genji sneaks a hand inside his shirt, touching his back and between his shoulder blades, needing to feel his skin, his warmth, the strong muscles that flex and twitch beautifully when he fucks. Then he notes them.

“What are you wearing, Jesse?” Genji says, interrupting the kiss and biting gently a glistening lower lip while he urgently lifts McCree’s shirt and slides both hands underneath to map the expanse of his chest. He feels the snug ropes hugging his pecs in the most intimate embrace. “I want to see it,” he whispers. McCree turns beet red. After all this time, Hanzo’s tastes in the bedroom lift him to heaven but the teasing brings a blush on his cheeks every time. He takes off his shirt, leaving it on the counter next to Genji.

“You like what ya’ see, sweet pie?” McCree says smugly, bracing himself on the counter and teasing Genji’s thighs with his thumbs.

The brat bites his lip, tracing with his forefinger the red ropes that wrap around his torso. He imagines exactly what McCree feels, enough tightness to know it’s there, to remind him of Hanzo every single second until they see each other again, a promise of tonight, of the reward that will follow. He hooks a finger underneath the ropes in the middle, right where they cross to meet one side with the other and pulls to ghost over the soft marks on his skin, exhaling a low moan. Memories of Hanzo practicing on his body years ago invade him, on how he learned to endure the process, to draw out pleasure out of it as he surrendered to his brother and his endless teasing. At first, it was so different from what they used to do that it frustrated him, it wasn’t fast and furtive like those nights fucking in secret, this was planned, calculated, experienced through. He became to love it soon. Yielding to Hanzo had a hidden gratification that turns him on even now. There is no safest place in the world than in between Hanzo’s ropes, and by the mischievous gaze they share, full of lust and lewd anticipation, they both know how mind-blowing it is.

“You’re gorgeous, Jesse,” Genji says, pursing his lips while he admires him, roaming both hands over the shoulders, following the loops that secure the straps to the back and the crossing point in the middle of his chest. It’s a simple cross chest harness but Hanzo does it so beautifully in its simplicity that he is even envious of Jesse right now. He traces circles over his nipples until they get hard between his fingers and McCree purrs and leans into the touch.

“Don’t be mean, sweetheart,” McCree says, but Genji pinches his nipples, brushing his shin into McCree’s crotch to sense the jutting, hard bulge. He lets out a low grunt.

“Can you cum?” Genji whispers, rolling the perked tips between two fingers. He has played these games with Hanzo, and he hates the waiting, the frustration, the endless itching he cannot scratch, but loves the sudden, explosive climaxes Hanzo drags out of him when he cannot take it anymore. Jesse has proven to be a much better partner for this, more patient, tougher, his aim to please always pushing him a tad further, pleasing Hanzo being his reward.

“No,” McCree says with a half-smile. “And he’ll be home ‘round seven.”

“Perfect,” Genji whispers, leaning forward to spare kisses along McCree’s neck and throat, following down, his path disturbed only by the ropes, until he kisses innocently a brown, aroused, nipple.

“Sometimes I don’t know who’s meaner, if you or Hanzo,” McCree teases, fondling Genji’s thighs, his skin hot by the shower in contrast with the cold surface of the counter. The brat traps the tip between his teeth gently enough while his tongue flicks and laps shamelessly, making McCree dig holes with his fingers in his flesh and moan for more.

“Jesse, I need to play a little,” Genji says, rubbing his lips over his nipple and glancing up at him with two big, black eyes sparkling with mischief. “I haven’t had a decent fuck in two weeks.”

“Since our mission in London?” McCree arches an eyebrow, wondering when did the brat stop dating other people and finding random lovers and instead, wanting only them. It brings a smile up to his lips to realize how much Genji has changed in the past year. If it was because of Blackwatch, or he, or the thing they have together, or all of it combined, that he doesn’t know.

“Precisely,” Genji purrs. Two weeks ago, they happen to meet in between missions, barely twelve hours, and they spent at least six in bed. They both missed Hanzo, they both needed each other and the comfort, and they fucked until the next morning light seeped through the windows. It obviously wasn’t their first time together, but never like that, never so raw, so rough and tender at the same time. Genji only made love to Hanzo and fucked everyone else, but that night Jesse melted his heart and made love to him, and he had to accept he was utterly doomed to love him as much as Hanzo does. This wouldn’t go away so easily, and, though terrifying, Genji felt an unbridled joy that still chases him.

“Don’t you wanna wait for Hanzo?” McCree teases, watching how Genji gives a long stroke of his tongue on the other nipple, leaving it to cool in the air.

“And be tortured by my mean brother when I got the soft cowboy right here just for me?” Genji quips while a mischievous smile stretches his lips and wrinkles the corner of his eyes. “I’ll give my brother everything he wants later,” he says, lowering a hand down McCree’s stomach to palm him through the jeans. “I just want to have a little fun with you…”

“Ya’ two are gonna be the death of me,” McCree chuckles. He’s got enough convincing, and lifts Genji again, grasping his ass and carrying him between giggles. He forgets the vegetables, the dinner he has to make, and everything that isn’t the brat in his arms, biting his neck and kissing him madly on their way to the bedroom. “Hanzo’s gonna be so happy to see you, sweet pie.”

“I miss him so much when I’m away,” Genji says, winding arms and legs around the cowboy, squeezing him in a big hug. He carries him to Hanzo’s bed, dropping him there in the middle of a perfectly arranged bedding. Genji giggles while he bounces twice on the mattress and receives the cowboy atop, kissing and smooching him everywhere. He runs his hands through his hair, it gets longer and longer until Jesse finally decides to get a haircut, he loves it like this, loves when he ties it back in a ponytail and the strands at the front always get loose quickly. He’s perfect and charming, and bites and kisses with an avidity that curls his stomach in a ball of pleasure.

“You’re my weakness, darlin’,” McCree breathes out in a long exhale, hovering over Genji while the brat unbuttons his jeans and tries to pull them down along with his boxers. “I’d do anythin’ for ya’.” Genji grips half McCree’s ass in his hands and moans, opening his mouth. McCree thrust his tongue inside, brushing his lips and sucking at his tongue to elicit another moan. He backs off to speak. “But if I fuck you, I won’t be able to stop, sweet pie…”

“You can do other things…” Genji purrs, helping McCree get rid of the jeans while he kicks off his shoes and squirms out of them without leaving the safety of his body. The discarded clothes lay in a pool at the feet of the bed. “… things you do better than Hanzo,” he whispers suggestively in a honeyed voice, threading his fingers in McCree’s hair and feeling his impossibly hard cock against his thigh. The cowboy chuckles, amused by what a little minx he can be sometimes.

“An’ what is that, sweetheart?” McCree drawls, a hand cupping his face lovingly while the other strokes the length of his side from his waist to his butt.

“You know!” Genji teases, blushing lovingly and nudging him with the balls of his feet.

“You can’t enjoy that much my tongue up your ass and turn beet red just for asking, darlin’,” McCree teases, flicking his tongue over his swollen lips between words and reveling in the soft blush on Genji’s cheeks and the smile stretching his lips.

“Please, Jesse,” Genji croons and McCree chuckles softly, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna open you nice and good for us,” McCree whispers, lips brushing the shell of his ear while Genji moans, his already hard length straining his boxers. With a gentle bite on his neck, McCree hovers over him, his forearms at both sides of Genji’s head. “Wanna ride my face, sweet pie?” Genji grants him a jerky nod while biting his lower lip to prevent a naughty smile creep up his face. He fails miserably.

McCree kisses him once more, crawling down the length of Genji’s body and dragging his lips over him. He has missed him deeply, his scent flooding his nostrils, the softness of the skin now marred by some new and not-so-new scars, and the muscles that sculpt his body into something fierce and dangerous. Genji is a sight to behold in the battlefield, wielding his sword and stalking his enemies with a cold-blooded look in his eyes to then slice the life away from them in a heartbeat. They don’t even know they’re dead until Genji wants them to. McCree lets out a throaty grunt, nuzzling below his navel and hooking his fingers on the waistband of the boxers, swooping them down efficiently before he comes back to Genji’s cock. He shamelessly mouths at it, eliciting a loud moan as soon as his lips and tongue brush the throbbing erection. A long stroke outlines the underside from hilt to tip. His cock jerks at the sight, at how he could shove his cock right into his mouth and suckle an orgasm out of Genji in less than a minute. He crawls up again, relishing in the little whine of complaint from Genji. McCree lies on his back, and the brat hurries to roll on top of him, his lean body enveloping him whole like a cosy blanket in a cold winter. He needs him that much, life without Genji or Hanzo is meaningless, sex without them isn’t sex anymore, is a coarse imitation of the real thing.

“I’ve missed you, Jesse,” Genji whispers, dragging his lips over McCree’s mouth while he cups his ass with greedy hands.

“You never come back so homesick, sweet pie,” McCree says, tilting his head to look into his eyes. “Somethin’ happened?”

“No,” Genji says with a wide smile. “But I love you, and I don’t say it as often as I should.” McCree mimics his smile. “Being away… makes me realize how lucky I am to have you and my brother in my life.”

“We’ll always have each other, darlin’,” McCree promises, his heart beating faster, swarmed by Genji’s arrival and how a year can change someone so much. “Now,” McCree teases and slaps his ass with both hands. “Come up here and let’s see if you’ve missed my tongue too.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Genji giggles, reaching for the lube on the nightstand drawer and handing it to Jesse.

“Just in case,” Genji says, kneeling on the bed and turning his back to him. Straddling his torso, He maps with both hands the expanse of his chest and stomach, pushing back until he yelps, surprised by two strong arms hugging his thighs and pulling him back. A warm breath puffs on his backside and sends a shiver down his spine, then a firm hand presses on the small of his back and Genji leans forward, bracing himself with his forearms on the bed and his cheek on McCree’s stomach.

His cock lays firm and tempting nearby, and Genji wishes he could have a taste of him now, watching how a droplet of pre-cum pools on his navel. Genji moans loudly, opening his mouth and wetting his lips. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss on a swollen tip, tasting the saltiness of McCree and humming lewdly for more. He lets his tongue out to lap the sweet treat, finding him hard and hot. “Don’t ya’ even think ‘bout it, darlin’,” McCree teases, biting the butt cheek at his reach and pulling Genji toward him and far, far away from his cock. “You’d make me come and I wanna wait for Hanzo.”

“You’re no fun,” Genji pouts, pressing his cheek on his stomach but yielding to those arms as they position him however McCree deems comfortable. After all, he’s the one providing. The cowboy grasps his butt cheeks and spreads him, mumbling a blue streak of praises before he lets his tongue out and gives a feather-like stroke along his rim. Genji shudders all over, moaning and peppering kisses on his stomach.

“So I ain’t fun, sweet pie?” McCree says, his fingers digging into his flesh while he runs a wet tongue back and forth his ass, just teasing. A kiss on a cheek, another flick of his tongue, a slow glide right on his hole followed by a long stroke that steals another loud moan from him. Genji feels the red come up his cheeks, loving every single touch. He pushes back with both hands on the mattress, straightening and unconsciously rocking his hips. A glistening trail of pre-cum connects his cock with McCree’s chest. He’s too good, no wonder he has missed this, him, and he intends to come hard and long before Hanzo arrives.

McCree lets his tongue out, flat and taut against his hole and urges him with both hands. Genji smiles, swaying his hips while he uses the movement to stroke himself against Jesse. It’s so good, a hot, wet tongue teasing his ass, strong hands spreading him wide so he can feel it all, everywhere, brushing up and down, as fast as he dares to move his hips, bracing himself on hands and knees. “Jesse, please,” he whines. “More.” He wants something to breach in, to fill him and fuck him how he craves.

“You’re delicious, my dear,” Jesse teases, landing an open-mouthed kiss and prodding with his tongue right where Genji wants. A loud moan fills the room, and the brat stays stock still, tense, waiting for more, but it doesn’t come. McCree grabs the lube single handed and squeezes a few droplets at the end of his spine.

“Cold!” Genji protests.

“M’sorry, sweet pie,” McCree says with a wolfish grin. Soaking two fingers, he pushes one inside him, relishing in the soft whine from Genji and the muscle clenching around it. He thrusts in and out while he kisses and bites a cheek until it is red and filled with his marks, then his tongue dips again right into his ass, outlining the muscle, pushing gently and prodding to squeeze it along with the finger. McCree intends to give Genji exactly what he wants and how he knows he wants it, but slowly, teasing, torturing him all the way until he cannot take it anymore. He sneaks the tip of another finger in, pushing gently and stretching him before he does what he has in mind. Genji leans back into his fingers, relaxing around them and asking for more, the tiny pool of lube running down his rim. McCree senses the pre-cum dripping from Genji’s cock into his chest and chuckles softly.

“You’re teasing me too much,” Genji whines. McCree muffles his hearty laugh with a harsh bite on his butt cheek, making him flinch. His other hand kneads and squeezes the cheek, a thumb caressing the indents of his teeth. He thrusts his fingers in to the second knuckle and fucks him faster. Genji moans at the lingering burn, spreading his knees to angle himself better. He wants to reach for his cock and be done with it, jerk off even with only those two fingers inside him because he feels like a glass of water filled to the brim and about to flood. He wrinkles the sheets in sheer despair, his balls drawn up tightly, his stomach curled in a knot. “Jesse, more.” A needy whine leaves his lungs.

“Sit on my face so I can fuck you better,” McCree says, withdrawing his fingers and watching a pink hole slick with lube flutter deliciously. Genji kneels straight, a hand on his thigh and another on McCree’s chest. The touch of the ropes under his hand make his cock twitch. As soon as he sits back, McCree gropes for his ass and spreads him wide while he shoves his tongue right up his ass. Genji moans loudly, supporting his weight on his knees and arching his back. He looks over his shoulder, glancing down at Jesse, eyes closed and focused on the task.

McCree hums in pleasure, pushing and withdrawing his tongue in a leisurely pace that has Genji singing a blue streak of moans into the room. He will make him come only from his tongue, and he won’t stop until he feels that hole fluttering around him. “Fuck, Jesse,” Genji moans, surrendering to that tongue fucking him faster, to the wet noises and the saliva dripping down his balls. He wraps a loose fit around his cock and pants at how hard and ready he is to come. His face is hot and red, he scratches McCree’s skin, trying to hold on to something, and pushes back, a ragged breath puffing faster on his ass and that sinful tongue dragging out the most luscious sensations out of him.

Long strokes in a tight fist that meant to elongate his pleasure turn into a fast pumping, same as the short thrusts from McCree, deeper every time, so lewd and so good. Exactly what he wants, what he needs, slightly full and wonderfully hard unable to hold the unraveling pleasure coiling down his loins. “Jesse!” Genji moans his name endlessly as he comes, his orgasm clenching his ass and pushing him out, his hard cock twitching twice and spurting cum down his knuckles and into McCree’s chest. Even then, the cowboy licks and laps at his fluttering ass while Genji strokes the length of his softened cock until he smears the last drop at the tip with his thumb and caresses the underside with two fingers, sending a whole body-shudder at the overstimulation. When he comes back to his senses, he leans forward, landing a furtive lick over McCree’s cock before he rolls to a side to slump on the bed next to Jesse with weakened knees and trembling limbs. McCree cleans his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a glistening wolfish grin and a messy beard. Spurts of cum paint his chest in white in contrast with the red of the ropes, and Genji blushes and giggles, hiding his face in McCree’s thigh and landing a grateful kiss there.

“Ya’ liked that?” McCree teases, reaching for his ass with a greedy hand to squeeze gently.

“Did I say I love you?” Genji says, still breathless in the afterglow. “I’ll go get a wet towel to clean you up.”

“It’s okay, sweet pie,” McCree says, standing with a grunt. “Be right back. You stay right where you are.” Genji smiles, falling on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a widening grin and a state of relaxation that only an orgasm can give you; that only McCree can gift you, he corrects himself. He really enjoys how Hanzo eats him, but Jesse plays in another league, so raunchy and filthy all the way through. He watches him come back to the bed, stark naked, the harness hugging him and speeding up his heartbeat as much as the firm cock bouncing in the air. It makes his mouth water.

“There ya’ go,” McCree says, sitting by his side, his cock still hard and tempting. He takes his hand to clean it with a wet washcloth and then down his softened cock and messy ass before he presses a soft kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” Genji whispers with a shy smile, flicking his tongue out to caress the swollen lips of the cowboy and find a minty taste all over them. He yanks McCree’s arm and makes him fall at his side on the bed, upside down, their feet on the pillows and the washcloth forgotten on the floor. “Jesse,” Genji says, yielding to his mouth opened kisses, for the skills of a tongue that glides seamlessly along his lips and strokes his own tenderly. McCree accommodates himself at his side while Genji snuggles against him, lost in their kiss, still starved by his body, his touch, and his presence. Genji sneaks his hand between them to wrap around McCree’s hard cock and the cowboy interrupts the kiss with a groan followed by a low chuckle.

“Careful with that,” Jesse quips, tracing circles over his cheekbone and kissing the tip of his nose.

Genji purses his lips, brushing the palm of his hand on the underside of his cock while a thumb strokes gently the other side. “Don’t you like it?” he purrs, stroking him loosely, not that he can wrap a hand around his girth anyway. He would love to make Jesse come, to suck him and drink every last drop of his cum, making Hanzo mad in the process. There is something sweet and lovely in how Jesse wants to wait, how he endures whatever Hanzo throws at him in and out of the bedroom. His brother can be a harsh lover to handle sometimes, but the way he takes care of you and puts your pleasure above his own most of the time surpasses the downsides. And he has a soft spot for Jesse, the cowboy that fulfills all his fantasies and desires of control without questioning, unlike him, who challenges his craving for dominance every single time. McCree grasps his wrist to make him stop for a second and then releases him, mumbling nonsense of how good it is and how full of mischief Genji is.

“Hanzo,” McCree mumbles, biting Genji’s lip and joining his hand with the brat’s not trusting his good intentions.

“I won’t make you come, I promise,” Genji whispers with a sly smile, half believing his little lie but dancing on the border of disobedience just for the sake of it. He loves pushing everyone to the limit and, of course, expecting Hanzo’s delicious punishment right after.

“I mean Hanzo’s home,” McCree says between chuckles because he has heard the front door and it is a matter of time he finds them here. Genji smiles, turning about to see Hanzo sporting a lopsided smile leaning on the frame of the bedroom door and glancing at them.

“Are you being naughty with Jesse, sparrow?” Hanzo says, unable to suppress the smile that reaches his eyes at seeing his brother again.

Genji climbs down the bed and runs toward Hanzo. McCree grunts softly as a complaint, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching the scene with sparkling eyes. Hanzo is over the moon, he can see it clearly in his face even though his smile is more a smirk and he wrinkles his eyes, but there is an unmistakable hearty laugh when he receives Genji into his arms. “Welcome home, Genji,” he says, catching his mouth in a deep, longing kiss, a hand cupping his face and the other following the length of his back.

“Anija,” Genji gasps before Hanzo thrusts his tongue again, assailing his mouth and groaning until he steals a moan from his little brother.

McCree sighs, watching Hanzo’s hands squeezing Genji’s butt with eagerness. He grips his own cock, slow, leisurely strokes caressing him up and down, unable to help himself at the sight. Hanzo spares feather-like kisses along his velvety lips, and as soon as he eyes McCree, he lets out a low purr of pleasure. His glorious erection glistens in his hand, his face flushed, his chest heaving comfortably inside the ropes. Genji joins Hanzo in the ogling, glancing over his shoulder and palming Hanzo over the trousers, feeling how he gets harder and thicker watching Jesse. With a last kiss on his temple, Hanzo walks toward McCree followed by Genji.

“You’re home early, darlin’,” McCree says and winks at him. Genji helps Hanzo take off his jacket from behind, already planning how to get him as naked as they are. His brother allows him to, standing between McCree’s legs and petting his hair. Genji sneaks his arms at the front and unbuttons the shirt.

“Are you comfortable?” Hanzo asks, hooking a finger on one strap of the harness. McCree nods, meeting his onyx eyes while the corner of his mouth pulls upward in a half-smile. There is something thrilling about the possessiveness of Hanzo, a pride hidden in the act of tying him up to restrain his movement or just to feel Hanzo in another way around him. It requires trust above all; but the bindings when Hanzo is not with him mean a lot more, that he belongs to him, that he is there with him and hankers for his touch and his presence. McCree knows and loves being owned, loved, cared for without limitations because that’s what Hanzo does, once you’re willing to take he’s willing to give everything in his heart and more.

“I thought about you all day,” McCree drawls, tilting his head into his touch but both his hands working on Hanzo’s belt and prying open his trousers. Genji hooks a finger on his tie and pulls until he undoes the knot and the silky fabric slips down his neck and falls unceremoniously at their feet. Hanzo chuckles when Genji slides the shirt down his shoulders, kissing the one with the dragon on it.

“You promised me dinner,” Hanzo teases, running a thumb over McCree’s lips. The cowboy kisses his fingertip swooping down his trousers while Genji kneels, busy stripping his brother bare.

“Someone kept me busy, darlin’.” McCree glances briefly at Genji and then leans forward until his mouth is over Hanzo’s jutting erection. He mouths shamelessly at it, with the confidence of a trustworthy lover. In the past year they overcame many obstacles, lone wolfs getting together, accepting they are into a relationship that comes with a lot more than just an outstanding sex life when they are not only two but three. McCree slides the boxers down slowly, stroking with an eager tongue Hanzo’s cock and eliciting a moan.

“I can see that,” Hanzo says, his breath hitching while his eyes look intently at McCree’s aroused length asking for a soft touch or a harsh bite.

“He was like that when I arrived,” Genji jests, stating a truth and standing to hold Hanzo from behind, his hands mapping his stomach and chest. Hanzo steps out of his clothes, kicking them aside and leaning back into his brother’s warmth. He has missed the brat more than he would ever admit. He loves him free, doing what he loves and always coming back to him like this, wishing his touch, longing for his kisses and the intimacy they shared all their lives.

McCree nuzzles at Hanzo’s groin, burying his nose in a nest of black hair and inhaling his scent, the one that makes him rut and lust for him. He lets his tongue out, lapping the base of his cock and working his way up to the firm length until he wraps his lips around a hidden tip, sucking gently and pulling back the skin with the help of his hand until he can feel the softness of a swollen cock growing harder inside his mouth.

“Eager, cowboy,” Hanzo gasps at how he works him into a full erection with the rippling of his mouth. Genji giggles at his back, sparing bites and kisses in equal measure down his neck and shoulders while his fingers drum along his nipples until they are hard and perked by the stimulation. Then he pinches them, rolling them between his fingers in an increasing pressure until Hanzo moans and thrusts forward, shoving himself halfway inside McCree’s mouth.

“Have you missed me, anija?”

“All the time when I am not inside you.” The answer pleases Genji because he gifts him with the most tender kiss behind his ear and then a nip on his lobe. Hanzo smiles, glancing down at McCree with that luscious gaze in his eyes that he gets when he has a cock in his mouth. He suckles rhythmically, arousing him impossibly fast, a fist on the hilt and the molten heat of his mouth enveloping the head in a dreamlike embrace. “Take all of me,” Hanzo says in a raspy voice, and McCree lets out a strangled moan, placing both hands on Hanzo’s hips while he sinks inch by inch the rest of his cock inside his mouth and throat. He gags, but he keeps him there, and Hanzo sways his hips gently, brushing the underside of his cock on his willing tongue. McCree wants more, as the greedy lover he is, and moves his hands to the back, finding not Hanzo’s but Genji’s butt.

“Is he better than me?” Genji mischievously asks.

“Way better,” Hanzo moans loudly, making a point as he gets swallowed by the most obedient lover. Because of that little lie, Hanzo earns a mean bite on the crook of his neck and two merciless fingers clamping his nipples to a painful extent. Genji eases it soon, lapping the indents of his teeth, sucking to form a hickey, a bruise, a mark of him in his brother’s body that he will wear for the next days. Hanzo tugs at McCree’s hair and the cowboy reluctantly sucks his way as he drags his cock out of his mouth. “Open your mouth.” He does, the head of Hanzo’s cock resting on his tongue, the pre-cum oozing on the tip getting mixed with the saliva. Hanzo takes himself in hand, squeezing his glistening hard length until a trail of pre-cum leaks on his tongue and McCree playfully licks the droplets, humming pleasantly.

“You’re making me jealous, Jesse,” Genji says, peeking at the scene from behind Hanzo’s shoulder and hiding a devilish grin. McCree winks at him, not buying it for a second, not after what he did to him moments ago.

“There’s plenty for the both of us,” McCree teases, dragging his lips over the tip.

“Lie on your back, cowboy,” Hanzo says, cupping his jaw and leaning down to trap his lips into a wet kiss, moaning his arousal into his willing mouth.

“Yes, darlin’,” McCree whispers, crawling up the bed and arranging a pillow comfortably at his upper back, his hand once more reaching between his legs to pump slowly his pulsing cock while looking at the Shimadas. He likes to watch them fuck, or just play with each other. Sometimes Hanzo ties him up and takes Genji however he wants while watching him and McCree writhes in the bindings, begging for a touch until they are sated of themselves and feast on him for the rest of the night.

“My little brother cannot wait,” Hanzo chastises Genji, turning about so he can kiss the apple of his cheek and bite gently right after. He climbs up the bed, straddling Jesse and roaming deft hands along his stomach and chest, biting his lower lip to suppress a moan at the touch of the ropes underneath his palms. “I should do this more often,” he mumbles to himself, admiring McCree’s puffy chest wrapped in red just for him. The cowboy sports a wolfish grin and gropes for his ass, rocking his hips up to brush his cock against Hanzo’s cleft. He’s already in need of some relief even though he knows it won’t come any time soon.

“Now what?” Genji says, lying at McCree’s side and playing with a nipple, circling it with his forefinger.

A smug smile creeps up Hanzo’s face while he sways his hips back and forth, McCree’s cock leaving a glistening trail along his ass. Hanzo grasps the harness at the crossing point and pulls until the cowboy leans on his forearms, glancing at him with lustful eyes. “I have been all day thinking about fucking you however I pleased,” Hanzo gasps, letting his tongue out to outline his bottom lip.

“That makes two of us,” McCree quips and Genji giggles, nuzzling behind his ear.

Hanzo chuckles softly before he kisses Jesse, pushing him back into the bed and letting out a low grunt. He finds Genji’s mouth waiting for him too and then he straightens, watching the two committed to a luscious kiss. Genji threads his fingers into McCree’s beard while nibbling at his lower lip and McCree slides his cock back and forth his ass until Hanzo stands, finds the discarded lube in a corner of the bed and lies behind his brother. “Your hand, sparrow,” Hanzo whispers into his ear. Genji complies and Hanzo squeezes enough lube so he can work McCree open with his fingers. The cowboy lifts a leg over their hunched hips and hooks the other under his elbow to expose himself.

They shift and huddle together in an unrehearsed tempo until they fit like missing puzzle pieces that just found each other. The world is less harsh when they’re together in this bed or any other, the three of them or just two, even lonely nights in the middle of a mission are better because they have each other. Genji moans at the full-body caress of Hanzo’s body behind him and relishes in the soft tickle from McCree’s ropes and fuzzy chest on his own.

“I’ve missed you both so much,” Genji mumbles, a slick finger drawing the underside of McCree’s cock and down his balls, until he sinks a single finger deep inside his tight hole. The cowboy moans, kissing his forehead and flexing the muscles of his thighs. Hanzo curls his spine in pleasure by touching his shin and inner thigh.

“Ya’ can go with two, sweet pie,” McCree moans and Hanzo smirks at his eagerness.

“I think I will go slowly,” Genji teases, remarking his words with leisurely thrusts.

Hanzo pours lube into his fingers and snuggles back behind Genji, covering the whole length of his body with his warmth and inhaling deeply the scent entwined at his nape. A rush of their nights in Hanamura always comes back to his mind when he does that, making his cock twitch and his heart shrink at the pleasurable memories. An idea creeps up his mind, and Hanzo smiles to himself at the thought of taking Genji and McCree back to the castle for a night together. They will share one of the most gleeful times of their relationship with him, they will include him and also fabricate new ones to bask in together. It will be perfect. He runs his fingers along his ass, spreading him slightly to dip inside his warmth. “You really started without me…” He sinks two fingers inside, eliciting a wail from Genji at the harshness and the burn.

“It’s Jesse’s fault,” Genji pouts, bending a knee to give Hanzo a better access and pushing blindly another finger in McCree’s tight ass, fucking him slowly, a tad deeper every time feeling how he stretches around them. McCree chuckles until Genji brushes his prostate by chance. He breathes out a loud moan while his cock twitches and spurts a clear trail on his navel.

“Damn,” he curses, his chest heaving in the enticing tightness of the bindings. He turns his head to a side to find Genji’s mouth waiting for him to take and bite his soft, tender lips. He ravishes them how he deserves.

Hanzo peppers kisses along his shoulder, mixed with mean bites and possessive laps of his tongue over his skin. His fingers thrust in and out of him easily, snatching and spreading to work him open fast. There is nothing he wants more now than to slide home into his heat and get him ready for Jesse with his cock instead of his fingers. He craves him too much, and it will take the better of him to hold onto his self-control and not flood him in his come as soon as he sinks himself in the depths of his body. The little whines Genji pours in McCree’s mouth aren’t helping, and Hanzo grows impatient, rubbing his throbbing cock against the small of his back while he clenches his teeth around the crook of his neck.

“Fuck me, anija,” Genji pants, adding another finger to the bundle in McCree’s ass and burying them to the second knuckle. A low grunt reverberates in the cowboy’s throat, bucking his hips into his hand to get more, enjoying the lingering burn at how tightly he traps them. The brat didn’t lie, his thrusts are intent and short, stretching him but not giving Jesse what he really craves.

“Impatient…” Hanzo chides him with a mischievous smile, grateful for it this time. He fumbles for the lube and slicks his length generously. With the help of his hand, Hanzo teases Genji’s hole, prodding with the tip of his cock at the same time he flicks his tongue over the shell of his ear.

“Anija!” Genji whines, his thumb caressing McCree’s drawn up balls while his three fingers stay firmly shoved inside him.

Hanzo nips his earlobe, pushing right into his hole but sliding right between his legs, teasing his balls, the lube making it a lewd slide. Genji lets out a pity moan when Hanzo glides back and forth, teasing him. “Help me out,” he says with a smirk. Genji arches his back and lifts his ass to him. Hanzo positions himself again at his entrance and thrusts forward, sinking half his cock into him in an ungentle lunge. His groan of pleasure at the tightness of his brother is unmatched by Genji’s wail of pleasure at having him inside.

“More,” he whines, his fingers curling up to torture the cowboy, putting pressure where he knows he will writhe and beg for more.

“You take him so well, sweet pie,” McCree encourages, kissing the tip of his nose and rocking into his fingers to get more of that delicious stretch he hopes Hanzo fills sooner with his cock.

“Genji,” Hanzo grunts, lunging in and out of him carefully, allowing Genji to stretch and get used to his girth. His better judgment though, goads him to fuck deeper and faster and he sinks himself into Genji as much as this position allows him. So little range of movement, but so intimate and close, breathing between his shoulder blades, his hand spreading his butt cheek while the other sneaks around his neck and down his alabaster chest. “So perfect, and so mine.” Hanzo fucks into him with a ravenous need, his cock aching and pulsing his desire, but controlling every single movement so he doesn’t lose himself too soon. “Ours,” he whispers.

McCree unhooks his leg, wrapping a hand around his own erection, his shaft hard and pulsing at the same unbridled rhythm of his heart. He strokes himself, kissing Genji, wishing those fingers would fuck him deeper and faster. His other leg rests on their huddled hips, following the sinuous movement of their lovemaking. The pent-up anticipation of a whole day in the harness is making a dent on his resolve, and McCree pumps his cock faster, a tight fist milking him dry and driving him mad even though he shouldn’t, he cannot. Not yet. “Don’t come, Jesse,” Genji whispers into his mouth, his beautiful cheeks rosy and flushed but a devilish smile stretching his lips while he withdraws his fingers from his loosened hole. McCree gasps, circling the hilt of his length forcefully.

A satisfactory purr reverberates in Hanzo’s throat, thrusting forward and then pulling out from Genji’s beautiful trap inch by inch until a trail of lube mixed with pre-cum ooze from him. “Such a good cowboy,” Hanzo praises, ignoring Genji’s moan of protest at being awfully empty, and leaning forward to bite McCree’s bottom lip and suckle intently at it until it is red and swollen. “Lie on your back and spread yourself for Jesse,” he whispers into his little brother’s ear.

Kneeling on the bed, he watches Genji obey dutifully, both hands on the knee pits, sprawled and ready for a good fuck. He swoons in the sight of him and fights hard the urge to take what belongs to him, the body he dreams of at night and arouses him since he was nothing more than a teenager. McCree straightens, leaning on an arm, ghosting his fingers along Genji’s stomach and chest, making him arch beautifully pursuing the gentle caress. Hanzo puts a pillow under his butt, thinking about his brother’s comfort, and runs greedy hands along his inner thighs, spreading him further out and admiring his ravishing beauty. He locks eyes with McCree, and the cowboy’s lip twitches upward into the sweetest half-smile that makes Hanzo’s heart skip a beat. “Ain’t he a pretty thing, darlin’?” McCree drawls, crawling in the bed and motioning himself between Genji’s sprawled legs. His thighs embrace the little brat’s, cupping perfectly his ass while his cock teases and falls heavily next to Genji’s. He takes himself in hand, teasing his slick hole with the tip, making him writhe and whine for it.

“Jesse, don’t be a tease,” Genji purses his lips adorably, so ready to be filled again, and Hanzo chuckles at how perfect they are together.

“Oh sweet pie,” McCree says, leaning forward, his cock prodding into his unbearable heat.

“Not yet,” Hanzo hisses at his back, threading his fingers on the ropes and pulling back until McCree sits on his calves right in front of Genji and trapped by Hanzo’s body behind. His chest brushes his back and sends a shiver down his body. “I will tell you when.” Hanzo drags his lips over McCree’s shoulder while both his hands follow the bindings to the front until he cups with greedy hands his puffy chest. His little brother has a bruise in the shape of his mouth on his neck and he works McCree’s skin with an intent suckling, helping himself with his teeth to form a beautiful mark for him too. He squeezes and rolls his fingers along his nipples, and when they are hard, he pinches them ruthlessly at the same time he bites again and breathes hot in the crook of his neck.

“Yer so mean,” McCree drawls, his hands on Genji’s inner thighs, kneading his flesh, helping him relax while he just waits and drinks in the sight of Hanzo and Jesse together.

“You like it,” Hanzo says, circling a nipple with his thumb, his other fingers underneath a snug rope. He pours lube on his free hand a bit clumsily, warming it up quickly and wrapping it up around McCree’s girth.

“I love it, darlin’,” McCree gasps, letting out a moan when Hanzo fists his cock. A hand coated in lube strokes loosely his length from hilt to tip. “I love you,” he breathes out. His hips fuck into his hand, out of control. Closing his eyes, McCree pays attention to the little whine from Genji and Hanzo’s hot tongue outlining the shell of his ear while he drives him to the unbearable verge of his climax, one he knows Hanzo won’t let him reach. He pants, his heartbeat peaks, his whole body tenses and focuses on that heavenly hand holding him, pulling and tugging and twisting downright smart where he wants. “Hanzo,” he gasps, a warning, a plea. Hanzo shushes him tenderly, peppering kisses over his neck, holding his cock with one hand and the harness with the other, right on the crossing point on his chest. McCree floats to the highest peak and wails a strangled moan when Hanzo stops, the unattainable orgasm rushing out of his reach while he sobs and seizes his breath at the painful grip at his hilt.

“Breathe,” Hanzo whispers. “I am with you.”

“Darlin’, please,” he gasps, his trembling hand caressing Hanzo’s wrist, his head falling back over his shoulder to allow those enticing lips made to kiss caress his cheek.

Genji watches them in awe, with a sweet smile stretching his lips and eyes glittering with lust and impatience. “Anija,” he calls Hanzo, meeting his gaze. His black voids beg better than the words stuck in his throat. For Jesse, for more, for being full. He catches the glimpse of a smirk while Hanzo makes McCree lean forward and positions his cock right into Genji’s ass. The rest is on him, he cleans his hand on the sheets and huddles behind him, groping for his ass.

“Careful, cowboy,” Hanzo teases, kneading the perfect curve of McCree’s ass.

“Come on, Jesse,” Genji urges, the pillow underneath his ass lining him up perfectly while he only has to lie there wide open for him. The tip nudges and slides in effortlessly, but soon the thickness of his length stretches him and Genji moans.

“You’re tight,” McCree mumbles, watching his cock disappear slowly into his heat as he swivels forward. He tries to control his ragged breath, both his hands on Genji’s waist to keep him there while he thrusts in and out tentatively, letting him adjust, enjoying the sweetness of his luscious face and the little moans echoing in the room. Hanzo’s fingers stroke his ass and slide inside lewdly, reminding him of an emptiness he wants full. McCree yields with a moan to those fingers and leans forward, sinking his cock another inch in that glorious tightness.

“Do not come while I get inside you,” Hanzo teases, twisting his fingers and pushing McCree’s ass with the other hand until he is completely sheathed inside his brother. Genji moans, hooking a leg on McCree’s elbow and trying uselessly to rock his body into his cock with the weight of the cowboy on top of him. Even if Jesse holds the majority of his weight on arms and knees, he has the brat pinned to the mattress and vulnerable to what his heart wants, or more accurately, what Hanzo wants.

“Please, darlin’,” McCree mumbles, caressing the tip of Genji’s nose with his own and winking playfully at him, as though his plea were not the sincerest in the world at how much he needs Hanzo inside him.

Genji moans, wonderfully stretched and filled by a throbbing cock, pulsing firmly and aching for a good fucking. The same one he needs badly. Hanzo slicks his cock generously, hunching behind McCree, the tip of his cock tugging at his ass and the rest of him joining the lascivious bundle. In a rush of need, Hanzo thrusts forward and shoves his cock into McCree, stealing a strangled groan from his lungs and gripping bruisingly his butt cheeks with eager hands. Hanzo’s breath seizes, remaining stock still while Jesse relaxes around him from the sudden penetration that hit his prostate unmercifully and made his cock twitch. “Dammit, darlin’,” he whines, hiding his face in the crook of Genji’s neck while the brat pets his hair.

“Are you okay?” Genji whispers lovingly. McCree’s tongue laps his neck in long strokes. Hanzo chuckles, pulling out and pushing in slowly, watching attentively McCree’s ass taking everything he gives.

“I’m dead in heaven,” McCree mumbles, shoved balls deep into Genji, Hanzo’s cock splitting him open and trying to hold the irrepressible urge to give up and come hard and long just from this. Since the very beginning, all he wanted was to be in the middle of the two Shimadas, between two demanding dragons who take, and fuck, and give in equal measure. Soon he learned trust goes both ways, and so does pleasure with them.

“You are perfect,” Hanzo says, intensifying his onslaughts, pushing McCree over Genji in every single one of them. “Gorgeous, beautiful…” he praises, his ragged breath betraying his lack of control. He swoons at the sight of his cock disappearing into McCree repeatedly, on how tight he is and how wonderfully they fit together. With a hand on the small of his back and another on his ass, Hanzo fucks him hard and fast, just how he has been dreaming all day, ruthless, taking his pleasure for granted and abusing his hole because it belongs to him as much as his brother’s. The cowboy likes it like this, rough and sudden as long as it comes from him and Hanzo is all about delivering.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna come if ya’…” McCree begs, bracing himself on the bed, arching his ass at him, taking his cock and angling himself so every other thrust he brushes that spot inside him that curls his spine and toes in sheer pleasure.

“More,” Genji whines, not having any control whatsoever on what he gets, and needing just a little push to climax.

A deep onslaught sinks Hanzo in him, and the Shimada smiles mischievously, glancing at his little brother’s flushed face. He tugs at McCree’s hair with a ruthless hand while the other supports him on the mattress. A loud moan puffs hot in his nape while Hanzo pulls out half way. “Your move, cowboy,” he whispers in a honeyed voice. “Make our sparrow sing and let me feel how you come around me.”

Those words clench McCree’s stomach into an impossible ball of lust and longing, his desire spurred by Hanzo, by Genji’s moans, by the overwhelming sensations flooding him from the inside out. He hopes and prays for their lovemaking to be always like this, breathtaking, wholesome, a union forged in their endless love for each other. “Yes, darlin’,” McCree drawls, taking Genji’s mouth and thrusting his tongue inside him at the same time he thrust back, sinking Hanzo’s cock into his ass and then back into Genji’s unbearable heat.

Wet noises fill the room mixed with the words of encouragement from Hanzo who bites harshly and kisses tenderly, surely leaving marks on his shoulders and neck. And McCree loves every single bit, fucking Genji’s mouth in the same tempo he fucks his ass, and it isn’t slow, it isn’t gentle or rehearsed, it is an animalistic urge that goads him to fuck and sate the never-ending thirst for the two dragons holding him to life in a surge of pleasure and love unlike anything he’s ever felt. Genji is the first one to yield, but not the hot gush of cum between them nor the impossibly tight hole clenching around his cock prevents McCree from keeping the relentless pace he has set. He fucks him through it, his skin drenched in sweat and sticking to Hanzo and Genji. “Come for me, cowboy,” Hanzo moans in a sultry voice that gives up his many secrets, how close he is, how much he wants this, them.

McCree fucks himself back into Hanzo, never leaving the tenderness of Genji’s fluttering hole, his forehead on the pillow, his hips speeding up and Hanzo rocking behind him, following his lead, never leaving him empty. He builds up his orgasm as he knows Hanzo wants, so it explodes, so it rushes through his veins and every fiber of his body like an unstoppable tsunami. His cock jerks, his balls tighten, and two frantic deep thrusts send him over the edge and into an unmerciful climax that shakes his whole body and leaves him limp and slack, falling on top of Genji. The little brat protests slightly but embraces him, and even if he could, McCree wouldn’t stop now, lazily fucking into his drenched hole until his cock is soft and slips outside followed by a trail of pearlescent cum. “Love you,” he whispers into Genji’s ear, comforting and caring as the lover he is, and lifting his ass to Hanzo with his cock still shoved inside him, so he can take what he wants, what he is entitled to. Genji sobs, unhooking his legs from the cowboy and holding him tight for Hanzo, his hands caressing his arms and shoulders, submerged in his heat and his heaving breath.

Hanzo stays deep inside him, bearing with a grimace between pain and pleasure the tightness of McCree’s climax around his cock. It defeats him soon, and the cowboy falls on top of Genji and arches his spine at him. Hanzo smirks at the enrapturing sight in front of him, pressing his hand between McCree’s shoulder blades, and feeling the red ropes that claim him as his. His hands keep his ass in place as he fucks into him, gauging his movements smartly because barely a few seconds in and out of him are enough to have him spilling his pleasure inside him. He rides out his orgasm as much as he can, those short intent thrusts are now slow, measured ones, milking himself dry and filling him to the brim. “Jesse,” he whispers between spurts and a blue streak of praises before he reluctantly pulls out of him. “I love you, cowboy,” Hanzo whispers, his hands mapping the expanse of his back until he nuzzles behind his ear and drops a lazy kiss there. Exhausted, Hanzo falls to a side next to Genji and takes his mouth in a languid, loving kiss.

With a grunt, McCree lies flat and presses his cheek on Genji’s chest, his heartbeat drumming slower as they bask in the peace surrounding the bed and the shared intimacy. Hanzo takes his hand and brings it to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. It is in these moments when Genji realizes that he wants to spend the rest of his life with them, between his brother and Jesse, making life worth living. “I could use a nap,” Genji says, stretching like a lazy cat in the aftermath. “I never sleep as good as when I’m with you.”

“No towel can fix this mess,” Hanzo says, sitting on the bed. “And you still have to make dinner.” He entwines his fingers in McCree’s hair, relishing in the soft and weary chuckle that comes out of him.

“You really dig my mom’s stew,” McCree teases and Genji laughs openly.

“I almost fell off my chair when he asked for a third serving on Christmas,” Genji says, laughing openly and sticking his tongue out at Hanzo’s glare.

“Shower,” Hanzo barks, standing and slapping McCree’s ass on his way to the bathroom. “And bring the rascal or he will make a mess of the bed!” he speaks aloud gruffly.

“The bed is already a mess,” Genji snorts and pouts when McCree stands unabashedly glorious in his nakedness and pulls at his foot. “Hey, Jesse!” The cowboy lifts him as though he weighed nothing in between chuckles, carrying him over his shoulder and spanking playfully his messy ass. He endures the bite on his side and the useless kicking of Genji trying to free himself.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweet pie,” he teases, walking inside the bathroom. He leaves Genji in the slate shower floor and kisses his forehead before Hanzo places a hand on his back.

Genji turns the water on, cleaning himself in the increasing warmth of the spray and curses at the second shower of the day when he would love to be lingering in their scent for the rest of the night. A mischievous smile conquers his face at the thought of more sex after Hanzo has his damned dinner. Though now that he thinks about it, they could use the time to talk and relax, he cannot remember when was the last time the three of them sat together around a table. While showering, he watches distractedly how Hanzo unties the ropes and unravels the bindings of the harness with endless care. He strokes and massages the skin, kissing the feeble marks on his skin and pressing himself against his back with a face he hadn’t seen in years. Hanzo is finally happy and wholesome having Jesse with them and it swells his heart with tenderness. Stepping out of the shower, he kisses his brother’s cheek and grabs a fluffy towel to dry himself on his way to the bedroom, leaving them for a quick shower and surely some sappy smooching, knowing Jesse.

The bed is, indeed, a mess, and Genji huffs a sigh, the towel draping over his head and drying his damp hair. He finishes and grabs a pair of Hanzo’s boxers to wear from the dresser and walks to the bed to remove the bedding quickly pulling from a side and discarding it along with the towel for laundry which he is definitely not doing now. The bottle of lube falls to the floor and rolls to his feet. Jesse comes out of the bathroom with a dopey smile and red skinned marks from the hot stream and a towel around his hip, framing beautifully the built-in muscles of his body. Leaving out a sigh, Genji keeps the lube on the nightstand drawer when he spots an unfamiliar and weird looking little box inside. He picks it up out of curiosity when he realizes it is a navy-blue box ring from a jewelry store. His mouth goes dry, a lump sets in his throat and his hand shakes slightly as he caresses the velvety case with his thumb. Something in between fear and rapture invades his heart, unsure of what it means. Too many changes, way too soon, and then again, a withheld smile stretches his lips. He turns around to face the cowboy.

“What the fuck, Jesse?” He says, mouth agape, eyes open wide and the little box sitting on the palm on his hand so he can clearly see it. At first Jesse sports a confused expression but he can see how his gaze changes from acknowledgment, to surprise, to infinite joy and then he stands stock still in a daze.

“Holy shit.”

“What’s going on? Were you going to tell me?” Genji tries to yell in a whisper, glancing briefly at the bathroom door where Hanzo enjoys a steamy shower, oblivious to this.

“That ain’t mine!” McCree huffs, running a hand through his damp hair to get it out of his face, getting closer to Genji to inspect the little mystery box with wary eyes. “Ya’ know I would’ve asked for your blessing first." Genji snorts, amused at how that is what McCree finds disturbing and not the _bomb_ he has in hand. They have several options, keep it in the drawer and pretend nothing happened, let Hanzo propose to Jesse whenever he planned to or…

“Let’s open it!” Genji says with a devilish grin.

“No” McCree grunts, closing his big, warm hand around Genji’s and the box. “You can’t do that.”

They struggle for a moment, Genji chuckling nervously and McCree holding his towel with one hand while he tries to snitch the box from the ninja’s slippery hand. If this is Hanzo’s idea, if he wants a commitment with him, McCree is more than ready to fall to his knees and kiss his feet for the rest of his life, he would do it with or without a ring, but if Hanzo wants to formalize their relationship damn it if his mother didn’t raise him to do things the right way. He would’ve asked Hanzo himself in a couple of years, it was never something he considered but he never thought he’d be in love and in a relationship so intimate and wholesome as the one they have.

“Stop fighting me, Jesse,” Genji hisses, but McCree holds him with the same arm that has the box secured and presses his back into his chest, immobilizing him. He won’t let Genji ruin the surprise for Hanzo, it is bad enough he found out about the proposal, at least Hanzo deserves to see a genuine face of surprise at the ring.

“Stop it!” McCree yells, his heart running a mile an hour and his towel loose, hanging from his hand and leaving his ass to cool in the air. “Auch!” Genji bites his hand but McCree doesn’t let go of him so easily.

“Just let me see!” Genji says before clenching his teeth again around McCree’s thumb.

“What is going on here?” Hanzo says with a frown between his eyebrows and a black silky robe wrapping his body. He stares at McCree and his brother, narrowing his eyes, suspicious of the hustle in the bedroom and the improvised wrestling that, in the other hand, leaves McCree’s round ass for him to admire. He cocks his head, and the corner of his mouth pulls upward at the scene. “Answer,” he commands, flicking his eyes between Genji and Jesse.

“Nothing, darlin’,” McCree says, releasing the brat and adjusting the towel tightly around his hips.

“We found this,” Genji says smugly, a smirk defying McCree who sighs and rubs the back of his neck, a soft blush tinting his cheeks at the brat’s meddling.

“So what?” Hanzo says and snorts, shrugging and picking it up from his brother’s hand like it’s no big deal.

“Honey?” McCree grasps his elbow, caressing with a thumb his arm over the silk. “M’sorry we nose around into your things, we shouldn’t have.”

“I have no secrets for you, cowboy,” Hanzo says, giving him a peck on the lips. “And I really hope your mother like those earrings. I want more of her stew and I need to get on your mother’s good side.” The little box goes back to his spot on the nightstand, but when Hanzo turns around, he finds Genji bent over and holding onto McCree’s arm while a clear as water laugh fills the room.

“Earrings?” McCree says, a smirk easing his nervous stance and finally surrendering to a hearty guffaw, joining Genji in front of Hanzo’s watchful and gob smacked gaze.

“Is it not her birthday in a couple of weeks?” He arches a questioning eyebrow and folds his arms over his chest, glaring at Genji so he stops laughing. But the brat cannot, he’s out of breath and clinging to Jesse while he struggles in a fit of laughter.

“Damn it,” McCree snorts, pinching the bridge of his nose and throwing an arm around Genji.

Despite the ongoing burst of laughter in the room, Hanzo keeps his face straight. “What is wrong with you two?” he hisses. “I like her stew and you never get the recipe quite right.”

“Bless your heart, darlin’,” McCree retorts, laughing snidely.

“We panicked,” Genji manages to say, gasping for air.

“Shut up,” McCree chides him, pinching his side and tickling him while he turns beet red at the misunderstanding that Hanzo needs not know about.

“We thought you were going to propose to Jesse,” Genji blurts out between chuckles, squirming out of McCree’s hold and reveling in Hanzo’s flushed face when the words sink into his brain.

“Pardon me?” Hanzo clears his throat. “ _You_ would ask _me_ to marry you, cowboy,” he says, defying eyebrows lifting smugly but the red on his cheeks betraying his heart and his gruff words. “That is even considering I would want such a thing.” Hanzo feigns his offense masterfully, but then again, his heart leaps, his cheeks smoldering hot while he locks eyes with a grinning Jesse that reads him all too well for his own sake.

“Oh, darlin’,” Jesse drawls, sneaking an arm around Hanzo’s waist and kissing him on the cheek.

“He wants it so bad,” Genji teases, leaning on the unmade bed to keep laughing his ass off.

“You, shut up,” Hanzo barks at Genji, but his brother ignores him. They need nothing but their bond to know they will be together forever, but Jesse… Since they started dating Hanzo wanted more and more things that he believed he didn’t need in his life, one of them a relationship with a man beyond intrigues and secrets, someone who loves him for who he is with all his rights and wrongs mixed together, someone who doesn’t judge, who loves his brother and respects what they have. That’s Jesse, and it wouldn’t be anyone else.

“Well then I’ll marry Jesse if you don’t,” Genji threatens playfully, resting his head on a hand while he lies on the bed looking at them.

“Genji!” Hanzo chides him, trying to cover the red on his face with a shy hand while McCree squeezes lovingly his waist and chuckles softly. “Nobody is marrying anybody.”

“That ain’t right,” McCree drawls, turning Hanzo around, throwing both arms around his waist to pull him close. “I’m gonna marry you, darlin’.” He marks the words pressing against Hanzo’s body, bringing him up until their lips brush and he witnesses the sweetest of smirks grow wide and tender on Hanzo’s lips.

“First you will have to ask and I will have to say yes,” Hanzo teases, winding his arms over his shoulders, unable to feign his amusement any longer.

“I’m gonna make a respectable man out of you, sweetheart,” McCree says, hiding his grin for a moment to press a kiss into Hanzo’s dreamy lips, lowering dangerously his hands to cup his ass and mess with the silky robe that lets him feel every luscious curve underneath. A low grunt leaves his lungs at how right this is, no doubts, no fear, nothing more than an unwavering love he wants to drown himself into. The brat smiles from the bed, suppressing a chuckle.

“You could start making me dinner,” Hanzo quips, biting his lower lip and freeing himself from his embrace.

“As you wish, darlin’.” McCree winks at him, taking a sidelong at his possible future husband with new eyes as he disappears into the dressing room. “Ya’ coming?” He turns about to glance at Genji who stands and hugs him suddenly, startling him.

“I’m sorry I bit you,” Genji jests, when what he really wants is to give him his blessings and welcome him to the family, but it’s still too soon for that. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

“Anytime, sweet pie.” McCree kisses his temple and walks into the dressing room too, taking off his towel unabashedly surely to tempt Hanzo who will have to beg for his dinner a bit more to get what he wants. Genji sits on the bed again, stretching his arms up and at the front while a mischievous smile creeps up his face. He opens the drawer as slowly as he can, ghosting his fingers over the little mystery box and taking it once more in his hand. He knows his brother better than anyone, he knows where he stands, how he thinks, how he functions from the inside out. They love Jesse and want him to be part of the family badly. He and Hanzo… their union is unmatched by any legal contract, already bound by blood for a lifetime, but Jesse... Holding his breath, Genji opens the box with a flick of his thumb, grinning widely and unsurprised at the white gold band sitting right in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was cheesy and sappy but I really needed a dose of that. This is my way to say goodbye to this story and the boys, and of course, to all of you who took the time to read this long-ass fic. (⺣◡⺣)♡* I hope you laughed or at least smiled while reading this and also I hope you enjoyed the smutty bits. ヾ( 〃ω〃)ｯ
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, for leaving the sweetest and most encouraging comments ever, making a fanfic writer very, very happy!! See y'all on the next one (*ゝω・)ﾉ

**Author's Note:**

> ["La petite mort"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_petite_mort) is used to describe the post-orgasmic state of unconsciousness that some people have after having some sexual experiences. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Corrections, suggestions and comments are more than welcomed ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩


End file.
